Falling Butt Monkey
by Casix Thistlebane
Summary: Xander has some massive decisions to make, and the return of an old enemy just might help....


**Title** Falling Butt Monkey  
**Author** Casix Thistlebane  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own Whedon's creations, never will.  
**Summary** Xander has some massive decisions to make, the return of an enemy just may help....

**Falling Butt Monkey**  
by Casix Thistlebane

_"Don't think for a minute that your friends will telephone you every evening, as they ought to, in order to find out if this doesn't happen to be the evening when you are deciding to commit suicide, or simply whether you don't need company, whether you are not in a mood to go out. No, don't worry, they'll ring you up the evening you are not alone, when life is beautiful. As for suicide, they would be more likely to push you to it, by virtue of what you owe to yourself, according to them."  
--The Fall, Albert Camus_

Xander set the book down on his milk-crate-turned-night stand and went, again, to go brush his teeth. He'd used nearly half a bottle of mouth wash already, trying to rid his tongue of the taste of spider. He leaned against the bare wall that separated the main room of the basement from the old wash and drainage sink where he kept his toiletries. The rest of the books he'd taken out of the library that day lay near forgotten on the dryer, four books on various mythologies he'd picked up in a last ditch attempt to be of some use to his friends beyond his usual status as comic relief, and a copy of Bram Stoker in a last ditch attempt to detach himself from the Mel-Brooks-meets-Bruce-Campbell performance he'd put on the night before. 

Somehow, the librarian had snuck him a copy of Camus, an author he'd never heard of and couldn't begin to know how to pronounce. He'd opened it in vague curiosity (the adventures of Renfield were still too close to home to stand), and an hour later stumbled upon a passage he'd since reread three times and was actually considering writing down for further contemplation. 

It was the part about suicide that really caught his eyes. He had never actually thought of taking his own life, and didn't much understand those who did. But his thoughts turned to the castle and his outburst, which surprised him more than it seemed to have surprised any of his friends. Last night he had delivered an ultimatum: he wasn't going to do it anymore. He was sick of being the funny man, passed over in favor of the more skilled members of their team. 

_"Where is he?!" He'd said, gripping his torch in determination. "Where's the guy who turned me into a spider eating man-bitch?!" He was pissed; his head hurt, and he wanted revenge. The answer he got was not the one he wanted. _

"He's gone." Xander's heart fell. They had defeated the bad guy without him. Again. 

"Damn it!" His fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to hit something. He'd proven once again to be little more than a liability to his friends. "Know what? I'm through with this crap. I'm tired of being the guy who eats bugs and gets the funny syphilis. From this moment its over. I'm sick of being everyone's BUTT-monkey." 

"Gotcha. No more butt-monkey." Buffy replied, and she and the others moved off, apparently continuing a conversation he had no part in. Xander watched them go, and a thought which hadn't even pretended to cross his mind in four and a half years of being a slayerette came suddenly to the forefront. He didn't need to do this. He was normal, he had no obligation to help, except for his apparently misplaced sense of duty to his friends. He dropped the torch, spun around, and punched the wall full force.

"OW!!" He shook his hand, winced, and stuck his now bloody knuckles in his mouth, and he followed his friends out. Soft laughter seemed to follow him out. 

The idea had yet to leave his mind. He turned back to the sink and rinsed his mouth out, gargling thoroughly, then returned to his sofa-bed, where his book was waiting. He read the passage again. The phone remained silent. 

Anya was still mad at him for locking her in the closet (which really irritated him, as it really wasn't his fault), and his parents were in their "let's pretend our son doesn't actually exist, at least until we need him to switch the whites into the drier" mode. He had nothing else to do that day, and no distractions, and Camus was the only thing he had to keep him from thoughts he wasn't quite ready to face yet. He had a decision sitting in front of him, and he'd never been incredibly good at decisions. His usual method of dealing with them was to ignore them until they went away, but that seldom actually turned out for the best. Avoiding deciding between Willow and Cordelia had left him with neither, avoiding deciding on colleges led him to apply to those which would never accept him, and avoiding talking to his parents had led to his current situation. 

But, Xander thought to himself, turning another page in _The Fall_, at least no one's died as a result. He'd never let a person drown in a Parisian river. 

The phone rang, startling him and making him drop his book on the floor, losing his place. He cursed, leaned over, and half-heartedly picked up the telephone. He wasn't sure whether he should be happy at the voice he heard on the other end. 

"Xander? We have a bit of a... er... situation. Could you come over to my apartment?" 

Xander stared down at his book on the floor, then looked at the clock. If he left now, he'd be at Giles' for hours, and would end up sleeping in for work the next morning. Again. 

"Xander? Are you there?" 

Xander was torn. He had to make a decision, and he had to do it now. He opened his mouth to respond to Giles' slightly worried voice, and no sound came out. 

"Xander," 

"I can't." He said finally, and a spasm of pain lanced through his chest. He forced his next words out past an enormous lump. "I-I'm sorry. Goodbye," 

He hung up before Giles could say anything to change his mind. He dropped his head to the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. "No more butt-monkey." 

The next evening found Xander in a familiar position; behind the counter of a bar. This time, he wasn't working on campus. Doing that would have been the biggest of mistakes. He'd just been hired that morning, when he'd taken an interview on his lunch break. The owner of the bar had taken one look at his resume, or more specifically, the fact he'd worked on a college campus, and hired him on the spot. It helped that the last bartender had just been claimed by the vampires the night before. After a quick quiz of the basic drink orders, which Xander had learned from his uncles at age five, he'd been told to report at six for that evening's shift. It meant he was working two jobs, but he figured it would keep him from thinking, which at that point was definitely a good thing. 

"Could I get a martini over here?" A woman at the end of the bar called. "Dry, with two olives?" 

Xander nodded, fixed the drink, and slid it down the bar towards her. It was nearly ten, and the bar crowd had started to level off. It was all Xander could do to keep from reaching for the phone to call the gang. He was insanely curious as to what the most recent catastrophe had been, and only the need to finally stick to a decision, for better or for worse, kept him from snatching up the phone with more vigor than he showed even his beloved stash of chocolate bars. He was just grabbing a handful of glasses and a tab from one of the leaving customers when the woman once again interrupted his train of thought. 

"You have the most amazing aura." 

He turned to find her studying him intently. She smiled coyly at him. 

"It pulses. I've never seen that before." 

"Well, thank you for noticing." He replied, raising an eyebrow. "I'd return the compliment, but I'm too busy being entranced by your--" Don't say breasts, whatever you do, don't say breasts. "hair." 

The woman raised her eyebrow back at him. She'd noticed the pause. "Can you see auras?" 

"Well, I might have seen one once, but it was at a frat party, so I wouldn't be surprised if it was chemically induced." 

She laughed, and Xander smiled. He racked his brain for something suave to say, but all he could think of was that Anya would discover new and inventive ways to torture him, powers or not, if she ever found out. "I haven't seen you in here before." 

"Strange that," She slowly pulled an olive off her toothpick with her teeth. "I come here about once a week. I'm sure you would have remembered me." 

Xander's grin turned a little embarrassed. "I'm sure I would have. It's... um... actually my first night here."

"I know." The woman replied, and the simple fact that she didn't laugh gave her several points in his book. "Rough week?" 

"Aren't I the one who's supposed to say that to you?" 

The woman shrugged. A drink order from down the bar drew his attention. "I'd love to stay and chat," he said, grabbing a few mugs. "But duty is calling. Next week?" 

"I'll be here." 

Xander returned home that night (or morning, rather, the bar was open until 2 and it took another hour to clean up) to find Anya waiting for him. They kissed, made up, made love, and he fell asleep without thinking about what Buffy was doing more than twice. 

The rest of the week passed in much the same manner. Every now and then, one of the gang managed to call while he was home, and he'd made excuses, explained his employment situation, and by the next Tuesday, they stopped calling. Willow still occasionally left him a message on his machine, and Buffy had once even been waiting for him when he returned, but he'd been so clearly exhausted for both events that the girls let him off with just a slightly worried look or comment, and then left him alone. 

By the end of two weeks, he had settled into a satisfactory routine in his life. By the end of three, he was forgetting his stake when he returned home from the bar. After a month, but for the occasional brief longing to do *something*, he'd managed to nearly forget the Scoobies completely, and his only continued allowance for the dangers Sunnydale presented was the gold cross he usually hung beneath his t-shirts. 

The woman from the first night reappeared on occasion, and he gave her a small smile, before moving on to the rest of the customers. Anya usually joined him at the bar, finding the few hours (most of which he spent asleep) that he was actually home between jobs inadequate Xander-time. 

A month and a half after he'd begun working there, the anonymous woman once again broke into his world. 

"Are you okay?" She asked, once he'd given her her usual. 

Xander frowned, his surprise at the question making him forget for a moment to let go of the martini glass. "Fine. Why do you ask?" 

The woman seemed genuinely concerned. The flirtation of the first night was completely gone from the conversation. "Your aura. It's... dimmed. A lot."

Xander released her glass, carefully setting his face in a neutral expression. "I'm fine." 

"Can I just... say something?" The woman was now looking at him curiously. Xander shrugged. "Vampires." 

Xander stepped back a step, and knocked one of the taps on. He hurriedly shut it back off, but the woman continued. 

"Werewolves." 

Xander turned his back to her, refusing to let her see how his heart leaped when she spoke. He started towards the other end of the bar. 

"I know you know what I'm talking about!" She said. "Witches! Mummies!" 

Xander ignored her, intent on gathering empty glasses. 

"The Slayer," a more familiar, insidious voice said. Xander spun, shocked. 

Drusilla had her hand clamped down over the woman's mouth, and was gently stroking her neck. She peered out at Xander through lowered eye lids. Xander stared back. 

"Shhh," she reprimanded the woman, never taking her eyes of Xander. "Don't cry, dearie. This will only hurt a little," she ran her hand over the woman's hair, then yanked her head hard to the right. "Mommy's just a little thirsty." 

Xander was in action before he had time to think. His hand found the single cross he'd kept beneath the bar for emergencies, and he stuck it in Drusilla's face. 

Drusilla reared back, her hands flying away from the woman's head. Xander leaned forward, glaring at the vampire. 

"You're kind isn't welcome here," 

Drusilla looked back, and Xander noticed several other dark figures looming over her. "Ohhhh, ohhhh, that wasn't nice," She whipped her head back around and smiled at Xander. He stiffened as she reached a single finger forward, and stroked down the length of his cross, ignoring the smoking. Her gaze met Xander's and held it. "I'm welcome everywhere." She ran her scorched fingertip over his knuckles, then pulled back and laid it across her tongue. He held her gaze a moment longer, never letting go of the cross. 

"Leave." 

Drusilla lowered her chin, still staring at him, and slowly smiled. "Okay," she whispered, her voice sending a slick flow of ice down Xander's back. "You won't hear the screaming, but its never going to stop." 

She turned then, her shoulders swaying as she seemed to glide ahead of her clan, leading the way out the door to the bar. The door shuddered closed behind them, and one by one, the customers shook themselves and returned to their drinks. The woman stared at him. 

"Can I get you a refill on that drink?" He asked, his lopsided grin returning as he slid the cross back under the bar. 

The woman accepted it silently. She downed it all in a straight shot, never taking her eyes off of him. 

"Something a little stronger then." Xander grabbed a few shot glasses down from the shelves behind him, feeling more cheerful than he had in six weeks. The thought that Dru and her troops might be waiting outside the bar made him bite his lip in anticipation. 

Xander slammed the door behind him and leaned back against it, breathing hard. On the long drive home, the adrenaline of Drusilla's attack had dwindled to nothing, and now all he felt was fear. He took three long, deep breaths and closed his eyes. The entire drive he had somehow known that someone was following him, and the race from his car to his basement had seemed to take an eternity, but he was finally safe, back in his nice, normal life. He was just starting to breath normally again when the telephone rang, and he sprang forward, tripping over a small paperback book lying on the floor. 

He spun to glare at it, as though it were its own fault that he had been too distracted to notice it, and saw that it had fallen open to one of the earmarked pages. He wasn't surprised at that, he only owned one real book, and had reread it a few times over the last six weeks. One sentence caught his eye before the continued ringing of the phone refocused him on his goal. 

"...there was no escape for me; they would devour me...." 

He grabbed the phone just as Anya ran out of the sink area, a piece of floss sticking none too daintily out of the corner of her mouth. She saw him, relaxed, waved, and went back to her dental routine. 

"Xander?" Buffy's voice sounded a little strained, and she was speaking hurriedly. "Look, I know you don't want to, but we need you over here, now." 

"Buffy," Xander sighed, leaned back, and tried not to think of the creatures he was sure were still outside his home. "That's not such a good idea," 

"Drusilla's back, Xander. Angel and Cordelia are coming from LA; Cordelia had a vision." 

"I've been on my feet for sixteen hours. I'm exhausted, and I doubt I'd be of any--" 

"It was about you, Xander." Someone was talking loudly in another language somewhere behind Buffy. "Whatever it is Drusilla's planning, its centered around you." 

Xander's mouth went dry, and he spent a moment staring at the far wall. 

"Xander? Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, Buff. Look, Drusilla was at the bar tonight. She said some threats, but left when I pulled out a cross." 

This time Buffy paused the conversation, as she turned to relay the message to someone else. A moment later she was back. 

"Stay where you are, we're coming over there. Are your parents likely to let anyone in?" 

"No." His mom was probably unconscious by this point, and his father would just leave the door open and wander off, letting whomever it was decide for herself whether or not she could enter. "Buffy, are you sure?" 

"We're coming over. Everything will be okay." 

Buffy hung up before Xander could object. He set the phone back down on the receiver, and glanced back at the book still lying open on the floor. Anya returned from the sink. 

"Did you say Drusilla?" 

"Yeah." 

"As in psychotic evil vampire who used to shack up with Mr. Impotent-Annoyance?" 

"That's the one." 

"What does she want?" 

Xander leaned over and picked up the book, shutting it firmly. "Me." 

Anya frowned. "Why would she want you? I mean, you're good looking, and funny, and fantastic in bed, but other than that, there's really nothing special about you," 

Xander decided to ignore the unintentional insult, and focused on the meaning of what she said. "I know. I don't understand why she'd come after me, unless she wants to use me as bait," "Maybe she knows something we don't." Anya commented, picking up one of her magazines. "Look, are we going to have sex, or are you too tired again?" 

"We probably shouldn't. They're all coming over here." 

Anya set her magazine down and looked at him. "This is really serious, isn't it." 

"I think so." 

Anya made a face. "But it doesn't make any sense. Unless...." Her eyes unfocused for just long enough to worry Xander, and then she sat up. "I need to check on something. Stay here." 

A moment later she was out the door, slamming it behind her. Xander cursed and ran after her. 

"Anya, what the hell do you think you're doing?" 

He could see her from just inside the doorway; she was standing in the darkness about fifteen feet from him, staring blankly at the house. She turned slowly in a circle, her face turning upwards, and Xander took a step forward, trying to decide if he should go get her. 

The instant a single bit of him crossed the invisible barrier marking his house, the vampires converged and he was thrown roughly to the ground. He could vaguely hear Anya yelling something at him, but his attention was focused on the pale face that had just thrust itself into his frame of reference. 

"Do you hear them yet, Sweet? They're so beautiful," 

Xander head-butted her, and felt the skin on his forehead split on her chin. He wrenched his arms out of her grip and began dragging himself away while struggling to pull the small gold chain from beneath his work shirt. He figured he only had about ten more minutes of quality fighting time before Buffy showed up; judging by the precedents he'd set, he could only really be brave and successful when none of his friends were watching. He yelled for Anya to get inside and lunged for the door. 

One of the vampires caught his ankle and twisted it sharply, using its leverage to flip him over on to his back and drag him away from the threshold. Drusilla lay herself across him again; the only sign that she felt pain from his cross on her skin was her game face suddenly flashing into existence. Xander could feel the metal heating up from continued contact through his shirt. In another moment, it was likely to start burning him. 

Drusilla cooed quietly to him, somehow matching the rhythm of her nonsense words to the pain that pulsed through his leg. She dropped her head down at a nearly impossible angle and slowly ran her tongue from his clavicle to the edge of his jaw and earlobe. He lay motionless, staring up at the sky until her tongue left his face at his temple, and as she lowered her mouth towards the side of his neck, he wrenched his whole body sideways, further straining his calf muscles in the process. Drusilla flopped off of him with a startled expression on her face, but was back on him before he could maintain his upper hand. She giggled, called him a naughty boy, and bit down into his neck, hard. Her shoulder pressed down onto the center of his chest, and the white-hot metal of his cross burned a hole in his shirt. The combined pain of her teeth, the cross, and his protesting leg made his mind go blank, as Drusilla began to drink. He was just trying to remember to breathe when a very familiar and very welcome hand wrenched the vampire off of him. 

"I thought I told you to stay inside!" Buffy said, throwing Drusilla to the ground and placing herself between the vampires and Xander. 

"You said to stay where I was. This is still technically my parents' property." Xander shoved himself up onto one elbow, seeing that Riley and Giles were fighting off several more vampires and that Anya had made it into the safety of his doorway. A set of hands wrapped themselves around each of his shoulders, as Willow and Tara began dragging him inside. 

As soon as they were in the door, Xander struggled himself out of their grip and on to his own two feet. Before he could take a step, however, his head started spinning, and his knees gave out, dropping him back to the floor. His leg screamed in protest at bending, his head and chest throbbed. Someone pushed him down on the floor on his back and pressed something against the side of his neck. Something that stung. He gasped and closed his eyes, refusing to open them until his neck and forehead had been cleaned and bandaged, and whomever it was who was torturing him went away. 

Four minutes later, he was lying with his head in Anya's lap and his uninjured leg propped up on the bed. The fact that he was only vaguely dizzy had lead to the decision that he was not in immediate danger, and they were now waiting for Angel and Cordelia to arrive. Willow was carefully wrapping an ace bandage around his injured knee, and threatening to elevate it as soon as she was done. Buffy and Riley were still outside, keeping an eye out for more vampires. 

"Here," Tara sat down next to Anya and handed him a small juice box. "It'll keep your blood sugar up." 

"Thanks," Xander replied, taking a long sip and trying not to wince as Willow tightened the bandage. When Tara gave him a small package of cookies, he gave her a confused look. "Where'd you get this stuff?" 

She held up a small black satchel, and showed him the contents. "Vampire survival kit." 

Xander surveyed the array of stakes, crosses, and vials of holy water, and let his eyes land on the box of cookies and package of juice. "Why didn't we ever think of that?" 

Tara shrugged a reply, and Xander was distracted by Willow trying to gently move his leg up onto his bed. He opened his eyes again to discover that Anya was staring at him. 

"What?' 

"Nothing. It's just I'm surprised I never noticed before." 

"Noticed what?" 

Before Anya could answer, she was interrupted by a sharp voice from the direction of the door. 

"He's a vampire! Why didn't anyone tell me he was a vampire?" 

Xander rolled his eyes and turned his head to the side. "Hi Cordelia." 

"He's not a vampire," Willow said, looking confused. She blinked, then looked down at Xander. "You're not a vampire, are you? 'Cause, you would tell me if you were a vampire, right? If you went and got turned into a vampire and didn't tell me, so help me--" 

"I'm not a vampire, Willow." Xander said simply. Willow nodded. 

"See, he's not a vampire. That burn is just... how'd you get that burn?" 

"Prolonged contact with a vampire heats up the material of the cross to the point of burning." Angel explained, standing just outside. Buffy and Riley squeezed in past him. 

"Come on in," Xander said at last, trying to sit up. He would have succeeded too, if it weren't for Anya and Tara pushing him back down to the floor. 

"Thanks," 

There was a short silence then, broken by Giles. 

"Right then, down to business." He sat down on Xander's bed, unconsciously patting on his precariously positioned leg. Xander yelped. Anya cooed at him, smoothing his hair, which only served to thoroughly irritate him. 

"He's injured," she gestured vaguely in the direction of his bad knee. "Shouldn't we be rushing him to the hospital or something?" 

Xander finished off his juice box and took a bite out of a cookie. 

"In due time, yes." Giles said. "But there are some questions to answer first." 

"Yeah." Buffy sat down on the last space available on the side of Xander's bed facing the action, and squashed his pillow. "Like why is Drusilla after him?" She peered down at him over the edge of the bed. "You didn't do something stupid over the last month and a half, did you?" 

"Who me?" Xander replied, and tried to sit up again. 

"Simple." Anya pushed him back down to the floor. "He's a hub." 

"A what?" It didn't really matter which one of the gathered crowd said it, they were all thinking it anyway. 

Anya sighed and shifted position, resulting in Xander's head hitting the floor rather roughly. "A hub. Like the Hellmouth, only not as hell-ish or...." 

"Mouthy?" Cordelia said. 

"Yeah. The ley lines of this whole town are organized in a sort of a warped spiral. There's a whole bunch of them crossing right over this house." 

"Of course." Wesley said from where he'd stationed himself, near the door. When everyone except Giles, who looking thoughtfully through a book he'd brought with him, gave him a confused look, he went on. "You've really got to understand the physics of the magic, you see. Magical energy, unlike the more, er, mundane forms of energy, attracts itself. The more magic gathered in one place, the more magic is drawn there. That's why demons and such creatures flock to the Hellmouth. There have been a few documented cases of humans, living in an area of high concentration, creating a kind of... core within themselves to store magic. It's extremely rare, but it does happen." 

"So you're trying to say that Xander is a walking battery?" Buffy raised an eyebrow, skeptical. 

"Er, yes, for all intents and purposes. Have you lived in this house all your life Xander?" 

"Yeah." Xander suddenly pictured Snyder sitting in front of him, wiping his forehead. 

_"Where you from, Harris?" _

"Well, the basement, mostly." 

"Were you born there?" 

"Possibly." 

"Why haven't we noticed before?" Buffy said. "After all, if he's been that way this whole time, should I have, I don't know, gotten a feeling about it?" 

"Actually," Giles closed his book and adjusted his glasses. "You probably wouldn't. Talents of this sort are very rare, as Wesley said. But there is a possibility that it actually happens more often than we know. The mere knowledge of something of that sort gives anyone power over Xander and the magic he contains. Thus, its possible that Xander has somehow created a kind of shield about him, to prevent detection." 

"Then how did Drusilla find out?" 

"I, er, I don't know." Giles frowned. "She is psychic," 

"But that brings up another question:" Angel said. "Why now?" 

"That I may have an answer to." Giles said, looking down at Xander. "Xander, how have you been feeling of late?" 

"What do you mean?" Xander was beginning to get the distinct feeling that the entire conversation was going on without him. He tried to sit up, and this time, when Anya went to push him back down, he batted her arm out of the way. 

"In the last month or so. How have you been feeling? Physically, mentally, all of it." 

Xander blinked, and thought back. "Fine. Tired. Why?" 

"Have you noticed anything... unusual?" 

"You mean other than not having to deal with the supernatural until tonight? No." As soon as he answered, he knew it was a lie. Even the woman at the bar had noticed it. He wondered what she meant when she said his aura had dimmed. 

"Are you certain?" 

"Well," Xander suddenly couldn't seem to find a comfortable position to sit. He could feel everyone's eyes on him as he spoke. "A woman at the bar tonight told me my aura was fading." 

Giles nodded. "Spending the last four years in the presence of the Hellmouth, the Slayer, and later, more than a few witches and demons, your body has adapted to an even higher level of magic than just living here. Add that to the fact that you worked two full time jobs outside of the home, and the only time your body had to absorb more was while you slept. Which I'd imagine you haven't been doing nearly enough of." 

"So?" 

"Your internal magic level has been rising steadily your entire life, even more dramatically in the last four years. Suddenly, that rise leveled off. In order to keep from losing any of it, your body locked itself off. The magic is still there, but buried. Which would explain your aura. Drusilla, having encountered you previously while your magic was at one of its peak ascents, must have noticed the difference. She may be insane, but she is also extremely intelligent. She put two and two together." 

"Wait a minute," Riley interrupted. "How do we know all this is true? We're just conjecturing here." 

"Because," Anya said. "I can see it. So can Willow and Tara, I'm sure, now that they know to look." 

Xander pushed himself closer to the edge of the bed as he suddenly became the focus of a great many stares. 

Willow's face lit up. "That's so cool! You've been boosting our spells all along and we never knew it! Maybe that's why the love spell went wrong!" 

Anya frowned. "You did a love spell?" 

"So not something we're going to talk about now." 

"Yes, its possible that Xander may be more of an asset to our group than any of us has ever realized. But at the moment the main concern is to keep him out of Drusilla's hands. He's most likely acquired enough magical energy to fuel some of the most complex and dangerous spells. But for now," Giles patted his knee again. "It would be best to simply be physically healthy. To the hospital?" 

An agreement was made; Anya, Buffy, and Riley would go with Giles to take Xander to the emergency room, while the rest went back to Giles' house to research. As Buffy and Riley hoisted Xander to his feet and served as human crutches to get him out the door, Xander couldn't help but wonder why it was that even when he was the focus of attention, he was still left out of the loop. 

Xander slid down as far as he could in the wheel chair without jarring his leg. The doctors had rewrapped it, put him in the chair and stuck him back into the waiting room to wait for the x-rays. It seemed that the hospital was unusually full that week, and they didn't have any where else to put him. Buffy sat next to him in one of the unusually uncomfortable chairs. Riley was hovering some where across the room, his eyes scanning everyone who came in or out. Giles was getting his insurance papers in order. It was nearly five am, and Xander was exhausted. 

"We should talk." Buffy said, staring at the amateur abstract painting that hung on the wall in front of them. Xander grumbled something purposefully unintelligible, hoping she'd get the point. She didn't. 

"I'm not kidding, Xan. We need to talk." When he didn't reply, she continued on. "When Giles said that night that you weren't coming, I didn't believe him. You've always been there, even when we didn't necessarily want you to be. I thought you always would be. That night when we wouldn't let you help, and you were there anyway--" 

"How do you know about that?" Xander said, sitting up a little straighter. 

"It wasn't hard to figure out," Buffy smiled a little, still not looking at him. "There were graves dug up, but no vampires to correspond... and Oz wasn't feeling well... and you left the bomb in the boiler room.... I don't know everything that happened, but I know something did, and everyone else was in the library.... You came through for us. You do that a lot. So when you wouldn't come.... I was surprised. And confused. And happy." 

"Happy?!" 

"Not that you weren't there, but that you wouldn't be in the middle of it any more...." Buffy finally looked at him, her eyes bright and lined in red. "I thought that finally, I wouldn't have to worry about you any more. You were finally getting away, and what I am couldn't hurt you any more. Every time a demon attacks, I always wonder if it'll be the last time I get to talk to my friends. At some point, what we're doing here is going to kill us. But you were going to live." 

"Buffy--" 

"No. Let me finish. When Cordelia called, and told us about her vision, I couldn't breathe for a moment. Just when you were safe.... But something in me was so happy, because you were coming back." Buffy took a deep breath, and turned back towards the painting. "What I'm trying to say is, if you leave again, after this is over, I'll understand. And I'll be glad. But I don't want you to go completely. I still want to be your friend. That'll never change. I just don't want you in danger any more." 

She smiled then, at the painting, and the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks never made it past her eye lids. Xander followed her gaze, at a loss for what to say. 

"You don't get it, do you?" He said finally. He looked down at his leg. "The reason I'm here is you. And Willow, and Giles, and even Riley and Tara... though not to the same extent.... I can't be your friend and not be involved. Every time I saw you, or talked to you this month, I wanted to follow you out, go patrolling again. I had to avoid you so I wouldn't. Besides," he grinned. "It seems that I'm stuck now. I got me a supernatural power." 

"Some power, we didn't even know it was there," 

"Yeah. I'm going to have to have some words with my power when I get home. Letting me feel all useless all the time, when I was really some kind of mystical powerhouse," 

"Did you really feel useless?" 

"I dunno. Do you realize that I'm three hours out of a sixteen hour work day without any sleep? I don't think even I can take what I say seriously right now." 

"Point made. Ooo, there's Giles." Buffy pushed herself up as the librarian-cum-magic shop proprietor walked up. "What's the what?" 

"Xander's papers seem to be in order." Giles sat down next to Buffy. He looked almost as exhausted as Xander felt. "Do you realize that you are the only one of us who hasn't had an over night stay here?" 

"Yeah," Xander said, leaning his head back. "I just get all the broken limbs." 

"Not true," Buffy said. "There was that time I sprained my wrist, for example. And if you count skull fractures as broken limbs, Giles has you beat by a land slide." 

"Yes, wonderful, have we heard anything about the x-rays yet?" Giles asked, leaning forward. "I would like to salvage at least a little sleep tonight." 

"Hey, I have to get to work in four hours." Xander checked his watch briefly. "Make that three hours and forty five minutes." 

"Surely you're not going to actually work tomorrow morning." Giles gestured to his leg. "It's not like you don't have an excuse." 

"Hey, they're paying for my medical bills. The least I could do is show up." 

"I'm sure they'll oblige you the transgression." 

"Whatever." Xander glanced to either side of his chair. "I don't suppose you can recline these things, can you?" 

By the time Xander was given his crutches and discharged (his knee was only badly sprained, not broken. They'd given him an air cast, put some butterfly bandages on his forehead, and sent him on his merry way), he'd decided that it probably wasn't worth it to actually go to work. He was given the option of going home with an guard (the rest of the gang had worked out shifts to keep an eye on him until Drusilla could be dispatched) or staying on Giles' couch for the day. Xander chose the latter; even Giles' old couch was more comfortable than his sofa bed. Anya complained, but yielded to the fact that creative comforting wasn't going to work with one of the others hovering around. He took a couple of the pain killers he'd been subscribed, settled himself into Anya's arms with his foot up on a stack of pillows, and fell asleep in the slow, comfortable fashion that he hadn't experienced for more than a month. 

Which of course made it all the more irritating when he was suddenly awoken several hours later by someone landing on his legs. 

Once he was done yelling profanely and his knee had stopped throbbing quite so much, he focused in on the cheerful teenager who was grinning at him from where she rested her head and arms; on his stomach. She wasn't looking nearly apologetic enough. He grumbled at her and tried to regain his happy sleep state. 

"I know you're awake," Dawn said. Xander grumbled at her again. She sat up (fortunately missing his knee this time) and moved off of him. When he opened his eyes again, she was sitting on the floor a few inches from his head, still grinning at him. 

"What?" He said. 

"Buffy just told me." 

"Oh." Xander closed his eyes again. Dawn went on anyway. 

"That has to be the coolest things I've ever heard. You have a super power!" 

"Mm hm." 

"So, can you like, levitate that lamp?" Dawn pointed across the room. Xander followed her finger. 

"That's not how it works." 

"Come on, try it! I bet you could if you try." 

"Dawn, I'm really tired right now, and my leg hurts." 

"Wimp." 

"Thank you." 

Xander closed his eyes, and Dawn leaned her head on his shoulder, silent for a long moment. 

"So, how do you do it?" 

Xander didn't bother opening his eyes up again. "Do what?" 

"Gather the energy. Make yourself a battery. How do you do it?" 

"I don't. It just sort of... happens." 

"Oh. Buffy said it was because you lived on a fault line."

Xander smiled. He couldn't remember exactly what the lines of energy were called, but he was pretty sure that wasn't it. "Yep." 

"So, do you think if I moved into the old high school, I could do it?" 

That got Xander's attention. "What?" 

"That's where the hellmouth is. So there'd be lots of fault lines there. I could live there, and then I'd have even more energy than you do." 

"You're kidding right?" 

Dawn looked disappointed for a moment. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I am. Kidding." 

He nodded slightly at her, then lay back again. 

"I just want to be special is all." She murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder again. Xander frowned. 

"Did you get into another argument with Buffy?" 

"No," 

"Then why all the questions? Why do you want to move out? It's no piece of cake, you know, living on a hellmouth. We spent all our time there for years." 

"I dunno. I just.... Mom was talking about Buffy again." 

Xander nodded. This was old business. "You know that just because Buffy's the Slayer doesn't mean she loves her more." 

"I know that. Of course I know that. I'm fourteen, I'm not stupid." 

"I know you're not. But I know what it's like to feel left out of the loop." 

"Buffy was fourteen when she became the Slayer, you know. Who knows what I'll turn out to be." 

"Hopefully, nothing." He felt Dawn shift indignantly, and hurried on. "Nothing more than an intelligent, beautiful person that is." 

"Do you think I'm pretty?" 

"All the Summers women are pretty." 

"Am I prettier than Buffy is?" 

"Dawn...." 

"Am I sexy?" 

Xander sat up sharply, causing Dawn to start. "Dawn. When you get older, we'll have to lock you up in Giles' attic to keep the guys off of you. Now what's all this about?" 

"Do you really think that, or are you just saying it to make me feel better?" 

"What's this about?" 

"Answer my question," 

"I asked you first. I'm not kidding Dawn." 

"Stop treating me like a kid!" Dawn was standing over him, now. If it weren't for the protesting of his leg, he would have stood as well. "I'm not, you know. I'm fourteen! I may not be Buffy, but I can take care of myself." 

"Dawn." 

"I'm not the Slayer, okay? I can't live up to her!" 

"Dawn, calm down! No one expects you to do anything like that! Now SIT!" 

Dawn sat. Xander let out a mental sigh of relief. He shifted to face her. "Now. What's this all about?" 

Dawn muttered something, staring at the far wall. He reached over, and turned her chin so that she was looking in his direction. She stared at the floor. 

"Everyone has a power but me. Why'd you have to go and get a power?" 

"I don't have a power. I have something within me that I can't control, and will likely never be able to. All it does is make a me a target for Drusilla." 

"At least some one wants you," 

She was still refusing to look him in the eye. "Dawn," he said it quietly, trying to draw her attention. When she finally looked at him, she had tears in her eyes. "What is it with you guys today? Your sister cried at me too." He smiled at her. She sniffed, and something in her eyes changed. She lowered her eyebrows, leaned in, and kissed him. 

She pressed her face hard against his, her lips closed, her nose jabbing his upper lip. A brief electric spark seemed to run over his face, numbing it. Something deep inside him imploded, and he felt like he was going to choke. He started backwards, and she fell over until she was half on the couch. The contact ended, and all he could do is just stare at her, bewildered. 

"Aren't you going to say anything?" She asked after a moment. Xander just blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. Shock was still making him incoherent. She started to look upset, and he pushed his shock aside. 

"What was that for?" He asked, trying to keep any kind of sharp edge out of his voice. 

Dawn's whole face crumpled. "Never mind. I--never mind." She stood then, and ran off. Xander watched her go, wondering if he should follow her. He finally just ran a hand over his face, trying to place the sensation he'd received from the kiss. 

He'd felt it before, he was certain of that, but he couldn't for the life of him place where. Normally, he would have chalked the entire thing up to hormones, but there was no way that could be what it was with Dawn. He'd never felt anything for her but a sort of big brother kind of love. A quick examination of his emotions showed that he still didn't. But he couldn't for the life of him place the feeling. 

His thoughts were, fortunately, interrupted by Willow coming in the front door. She was a little out of breath, and thoroughly confused. 

"Was that Dawn who just ran out?" 

"Yeah," Xander replied without turning. "Yeah it was." 

"What happened? Is she okay?" 

"I screwed up." 

Willow sat down next to him on the couch and set a large bag of Chinese food down on the coffee table. It smelled wonderful, but Xander couldn't quite get enthusiastic about it. "What happened." 

"She kissed me." Xander felt his brows furrow again. He looked over at Willow. "I knew she had a crush on me, but I figured.... She kissed me!" 

Willow looked startled. "Did she use tongue?" 

"Good god, no. I don't think either of us could have handled that. I hope she's okay." 

"Yeah. I'm surprised she had the guts to do it." 

"She was feeling so insecure. She thinks that just because she doesn't have a power, she's somehow less than the rest of us." 

"That's silly!" 

"No, actually, its not. I could understand that. The kiss is what surprised me. And--" Xander cut himself off, not sure if he wanted to talk about the feeling which had accompanied it. A sudden thought occurred to him. "What does it feel like when you use magic?" 

"Why?" 

"Just wondering. How does it feel?" 

Willow smiled a little. "Like my spirit is being expanded. Something inside of me reacts, and it becomes bigger than I could ever be. Once it's filled me up completely, and I feel like I'm going to explode, it goes pouring out, and I get this weird tingling feeling." She looked over at him. "Didn't you feel it when we did the spell last May?" 

Xander looked at her curiously. "No. I remember feeling numb afterwards, but nothing like that." 

"Oh." Willow made a brief face, and then her eyes widened. "Hey, maybe its because of your thing! You must have absorbed some of the magic while you gave it out!" 

"So they sort of... canceled each other out?" Xander thought about that for a moment, and reviewed the sensation he'd gotten from Dawn. "When Dawn kissed me, I felt... something. Like I was being zapped by something. And then this... hole opened up inside of me for a moment." He looked over at her, and saw she was just as confused as he was. "Does that mean anything to you?" 

"I don't know. Have you ever felt it before?" 

"That's just it, I'm sure I have, but I can't figure out where. I think maybe Dawn isn't as powerless as we think. What if she has a 'thing' too, that we just don't know about?" 

"I guess its possible. But, come on. Buffy's known Dawn her entire life, and she never noticed anything strange." 

"I suppose." Xander thought about it for a moment, then took a long breath. He felt a smile slowly evolve on his face. "Is that Chow Mein?" 

"It most certainly is. I know its your favorite, and since you'll be staying in for the most part until we can find Drusilla, I figured I might as well treat you." 

Xander muttered a thanks through a mouth full of Chinese food and chopsticks. He swallowed quickly. "We need sodas." He moved to stand, but Willow shooed him back down to the couch and went to get them. He watched her go for a moment, then dug back into his food. "I could get used to this...." 

That night, they gathered together at Giles' apartment to discuss what to do next. Xander was fairly certain that Giles would have very much preferred to have moved the meeting to the back room of the magic shop, but apparently the idea of going out after dark (or more precisely, taking Xander out after dark) was too daunting to consider. Which meant that Xander was stuck on Giles' couch for the night. He couldn't quite determine if that was better or worse than staying in his basement. He really had to move out. 

The question of the moment was what Drusilla would be likely to do to him if she caught him. The entire conversation made Xander uncomfortable. He spent most of the time standing by the wall, his arms crossed, resisting the urge to pace. 

"What about the spell?" Willow was asking. "Is there a way to keep her from using the magic?" 

Giles shook his head, reading a bit from one of his larger tomes. 'The only way would be to use a binding spell. If we attach Xander to one of us, only that person would ever be able to use his energy." 

"That's perfect!" Willow said, leaning forward in her position on the couch. "We bind him to one of us, and we get the advantage of the magic while protecting Xander from Drusilla!" 

"Um," Xander said, bouncing slightly. "I'm not so sure--" 

"It would not be in anyone's best interests." Giles said, only acknowledging Xander's comments with a brief nod. "Whomever was attached to Xander would only be able to use that energy, no other. Eventually, when we need to perform a higher level spell, all the energy for it would have to come from the same source. Depending on the type of spell, the drain would at best leave Xander comatose." 

Xander's head shot up at that; he'd been studying his shoes during most of the conversation. "And at worst?" 

"It would kill you." 

There was a long silence. Xander looked back at his shoes. 

"Okay," Willow said quietly. "So we can't--" 

A shout from Cordelia interrupted her, as the other girl suddenly staggered, clutching her head. She backed sharply into Xander, who caught her by the elbows and then staggered himself, slamming into a book case. His arms spasmed where they touched hers, and the world vanished briefly as something inside his chest turned inside out and compacted. The whole thing lasted only a moment, and afterwards, Xander was filled with such an immediate need to do SOMETHING, which he now realized was the need to release the energy he'd gathered. He pushed it back, felt something tighten, and noticed that a) Cordelia had straightened in his arms which b) were still wrapped a little too tightly around her and c) somewhere along he lines he'd closed his eyes. He opened them and realized that everyone was o busy ensuring Cordelia was all right that they hadn't noticed his reaction. 

"What did you see?" Angel was asking as Xander leaned fully against the book shelf to back off slightly. Angel met his eyes as he handed Cordelia a few pills and some water, and Xander wondered if not everyone had been so preoccupied. 

"Lindsey." Cordelia said, once she'd managed to swallow the pills. "With Drusilla. I didn't recognize the place." 

Angel's expression was unreadable, but Wesley's could have supplied information for a series of novels. The sort of novels you read in advanced literature classes that NEVER had a happy ending. 

"Lindsey?" Buffy voiced all their concerns in one statement. "Should we recognize that name? Cause I'm drawing a blank, but it certainly seems to strike fear into the hearts of you guys." 

Wesley smiled ruefully. "He's a junior executive at Wolfram and Hart, a firm which provides attorneys to the various infamous demons of LA." 

"A lawyer?" Xander said, rubbing the tops of his arms. "Run for cover." 

"We've run into Lindsey before." Angel continued. "There was a small chance he'd join the ranks of the good, but now he's developed a bit of a vendetta against me." Angel moved Cordelia to the couch, though she seemed to be recovering quickly. 

"Angel cut off his hand." Cordelia said. "That made him a little upset." 

"A one handed lawyer." Riley was pacing behind the couch. "Is he a demon himself?" 

"No." Angel said. "Not that we know of. Which means Drusilla now has people who can attack in daylight." 

"So we'll need to keep an eye on Xander twenty-four-seven." Riley stopped and leaned on the back of the couch. "If Dru knows where he lives and works--" 

"I'm never going to have any privacy again, am I." It was a statement of fact rather than a question. Xander shook his head. "You guys can't watch me all the time." 

"She'll find a way in your basement." Buffy said. "And the Lindsey guy doesn't need an invite." 

"What if I move?" Xander asked. "I've had my eye on an apartment, and I've got the money for a down payment. If we do it at the right time, they won't be able to find me." 

"Lindsey will find you." 

"So what?" Xander stepped away from the bookcase. "Do you want me to go into hiding? I can't just cut off my life for this." 

"Think, Xander." Giles interrupted his tirade forcefully. "The same consequences I described apply to Drusilla. Whatever she wants to use you for, you won't likely survive the experience!" 

"So which is worse, Giles?" Xander countered. He was breathing heavily and his blood was singing. "Literal death, or metaphysical? And how many other demons are going to notice that the Slayer is hiding me out? This isn't going to end with Drusilla. If I disappear now, I'll have to hide for the rest of my life!" 

Everyone in the room was staring at him by then. Anya walked up and hugged him. Buffy broke the silence. 

"I can keep an eye on him at the bar." 

"I'll watch him at the construction site." Riley said. 

In minutes, they had every place he spent his time staked out, including the possible new apartment. Xander protested, but finally gave himself up as loved. 

For a week, nothing happened. Xander went back to work (placed on a desk job at the construction site until his leg healed), signed a lease, and slowly started moving into his new apartment. He began to notice what sorts of people produced a sensation when he let his hand brush theirs, though no reaction was quite as strong as Cordelia in the throes of a vision, or even Dawn when she kissed him. The aura woman didn't return to the bar, which disappointed him. He'd been curious to see what sort of response he'd get off her. 

He had to be careful though. Too much skin to skin contact with people of magic ability made him giddy. 

He cornered Dawn towards the end of the week, by inviting her over with Willow, Tara, and Anya for an early dinner. Willow and Tara canceled at the last minute, after Anya has assured them she'd keep an eye on Xander. After dinner, he convinced her to work on unpacking the bedroom while he and Dawn did the dishes. 

"Why don't you have a dishwasher?" Dawn asked, annoyed, as she dried a plate and searched for a cabinet to put it in. Xander pointed it out and returned to the pot he was scrubbing. 

"It hasn't come in yet." Xander gestured with his chin to another pan. "Hand me that right there, would you?" 

Dawn grabbed the pan, and Xander let his fingers brush her palm as he took it. There was a static shock, and what he'd decided must be the center of his magic compacted to make room for more. His fingers went numb, and Dawn jumped. He met her eyes and she quickly turned away, drying a glass. Xander watched her for a moment. 

"Don't pretend you didn't feel it." 

Dawn's shoulders tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Yes, you do." 

Dawn turned slowly. "Stop teasing me." 

"Do you know what it was?" 

"I know better than you do. You think you love Anya." 

"Dawn, you don't love me. You have a crush." 

"This isn't a crush!" 

"Yes, it is." 

"Then why?" Dawn gestured to his fingers. "That's what happens with a crush?" 

"No. That happens because of what I am. The only time I've felt anything like it was when I touched something magic. Extreme magic." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"I felt it the first time when you kissed me." The look on Dawns face made him hurry on. "Then I felt it again when Cordelia had a vision. The only way I can explain it is that that's what happens when I absorb magic from someone. Do you understand?" 

"No." Dawn's eyes were brimming. "Are you rejecting me?" 

Xander continued on, avoiding her question. "When we talked last week, you said you wished you had a power. I'm trying to say that you do. I can tell." 

"You think its just the magic?!" 

Xander studied her face. "Dawn, you're a great kid. But you're just that." He paused, noticing something else. "Wait. I only remember feeling that twice. Are you saying you've felt it more?" 

Dawn nodded. "Ever since I met you, when we moved here! You don't remember?" 

"No." As soon as he said it, he did remember. When the master rose, when he revived Buffy, he'd felt something small every time he encountered something supernatural. But, he suddenly realized, Dawn wasn't there. In any of his memories. But she'd been there all along. "We never touched before the kiss." 

Dawn frowned. "What are you talking about?" 

Xander opened his mouth to answer, but the doorbell rang. 

He pointed at Dawn and moved to the door. "This conversation isn't over." She nodded, and he opened the door. 

"Alexander Harris?" The man on the other side asked. He was young, in his late twenties, and good looking in a slick, conservative sort of way. "Adam Fisher. I understand you work in construction?" He held out a gloved hand. Xander studied it skeptically. "You're wondering about the gloves. Everyone wonders about the gloves." He held up his other hand, also gloved, and knocked it against the door frame. A hollow plastic sound resonated. "It hides the prosthetic." He held up the hand meaningfully. "I understand the stresses of work related injury. I see you do as well. How's the leg?" 

Xander glanced at his leg, ignoring Dawn, who was jumping up and down behind him. "What do you want?" 

"What kind of health insurance do you have, Mr. Harris?" 

Xander laughed. "A salesman. I should have known. I'm covered by the company, thanks." 

"Oh, no, no problem," Fisher waved his real hand. "But in case you should reconsider, take one of my cards." He removed a business card smoothly from an inside pocket. Xander accepted it, lightly touching the man's wrist below the glove. Nothing. He glanced down and ran his thumb over the faux-wet-ink letters. He moved to close the door. 

"If you need anything," Fisher said before he could. "Call that number." 

"Do they teach you to be obnoxious, or does that come naturally?" Xander turned and suddenly staggered as his heart rate increased and the room began to spin slowly without moving. The smug look on Fisher's face vanished. 

"Mr. Harris?" 

Xander staggered forward into the counter. A glass of water appeared in front of him, presumably placed there by a fast-moving Fisher. 

"Mr. Harris, are you alright?" 

Xander tried to lift the glass, but his hand didn't want to work properly. He fell most of the way to the floor, and heard a distant crash as the glass broke. 

"Xander!" He could see Dawn hovering nearby, clearly unsure what to do. 

He felt two hands, on flesh, one plastic, under his arms. He was being lowered to the floor. One hand left as Fisher pointed to the door to the bathroom. "Go call 911!" 

Dawn, looking as though she may faint herself, ran off to obey. 

Both hands disappeared and fisher leaned into his face. "You, Mr. Harris, have an appointment with my client." A hand wrapped itself in the front of his shirt, and someone lifted him by the ankles. Xander could hear Fisher muttering something as he passed out completely. 

Xander glared over the tops of his knees at the bowl being thrust into his already limited personal space. He gave his captor a skeptical look. The man shrugged, and placed the bowl on the table, lifting a spoon. 

Xander had to struggle to hide the fact that his mouth watered at the sight of the stew. It became clearer and clearer as the man ate that it wasn't drugged, as he'd first suspected. His stomach complained, and he quieted it by nibbling on a stiff crust of stale bread, masking the movement behind his crossed arms and bent legs. 

When he'd first awoken, an indeterminate amount of time earlier, he'd been locked into a dank, black room, containing nothing but a single door and some scattered hay. He'd passed the hours by pacing himself into exhaustion, his hands hovering uncomfortably by his sides; they'd dressed him in loose, black cotton pants and jacket, neither of which had pockets. He tried tucking in the open jacket (it had no clasps or zippers) or folding his hands in the drawstring waist band, but that only served to remind him that his boxers had been removed. Whomever had dressed him had seen him naked.

In the room, they had fed him only a croissant or baguet, and a bottle of gatoraide that would appear each time he went to sleep. He'd counted seven such feedings before one time when he'd simply been unable to stand, and they'd moved him to the chair he now occupied at the main table of what he assumed was a factory or warehouse. His ankles were chained in such a way that he was forced to sit with his knees drawn up this chin. He had little more of a range of movement with his arms. 

He wanted nothing more than to get up and move around. And to take a bite of the stew which his captor was now eating with such relish. 

"I should have known," Xander muttered, wishing to wipe the self-satisfied look off the man's face. "Salesman, lawyer, both are the scum of the Earth," 

"More so than a taxidermist?" Lindsey asked. Xander had realized by now that this was the junior executive. 

He glared. "I suppose you have a file on me." 

"I know as much as I need to." Lindsey put down his spoon and watched him through the corner of his eye. "I suppose Angel's told you all about me." 

"I know you could have been redeemed but you turned your back on it." 

"True. Did the dark seraphim happen to mention why?" 

"No." Xander watched him curiously. 

"Than you can't judge me." 

The two sat in silence for a moment, the lawyer eating his stew, the prisoner nibbling his piece of crust. 

"Why are you doing this?" Xander asked, staring fixedly at the pot sitting just in front of him. His palmed bread crust no longer worked. He continued, covering the noise of his stomach. "Kid-napping doesn't normally fall under the duties of a lawyer to his client." 

"Not generally." Lindsey said. "But you're a special case. My firm stands to gain a lot from you." 

"The magic, you mean." 

"That too," Lindsey served himself another bowl, glancing sideways at Xander, who stared at the ladle. The bread crust crumbled in his death grip. He waited. Lindsey took a spoonful. 

"You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"

"Ask what?" 

Xander swallowed his pride and hugged his knees. "Can.... Can I have some stew?" 

Lindsey looked at him directly for the first time. "No." 

Xander protested, and Lindsey smiled. 

"You refused it." 

The lawyer left his stew on the table, just out of Xander's reach, and left the room. Xander's stomach roared. 

Xander awoke sometime later, surprised to discover that he must have at some point fallen asleep. His back was screaming curses at his brain for forcing it in a semi-arched position for so long, and his knees had locked themselves into the bent position. His feet were entirely numb, partly, he was certain, from the temperature of the room. He pulled his thin jacket tightly over his bare chest and wrapped his arms around himself as best as he could. He could no longer smell the stew, but the pot still sat there, mocking him with its shiny new-ness. 

He wondered briefly what time it was, which led him to wonder what day it was, which led him to wonder just when the hell the cavalry would come to his rescue. He was fairly certain that he'd been in the factory for several days, possibly a full week. Buffy and the rest of the crew should have been busting down the factory door by now. In his new position right in the center of things, he could see Drusilla's hench-folk come and go, and he estimated that there were upwards of twenty people of varying demonic nature living in the factory. He had yet to see Drusilla herself. 

He looked back at the pot, sighed, and tried to shift at the very least into a cross-legged position. 

Ten minutes later, he'd managed to get his elbow wedged in under his right knee. His left, which still throbbed constantly without his air cast, was now shooting icicles up his thigh as he had somehow ended up sideways in the chair, and his weight rested almost completely on his knee cap. The thin padding on the deceptively ornate armchair did nothing to lessen the pressure. 

He was trying to determine how best to get his chin at least above his right wrist, which was trapped under his right arm pit, when he heard Lindsey come back in. He cursed the lawyer, Drusilla, his parents, and anyone else he could think of who'd ever done him wrong, and reminded himself that he'd been trying to avoid being the comic relief. A laugh echoed from across the room as Lindsey gently started rearranging his limbs so that he no longer resembled a pretzel. Xander looked around for the source, but saw no one there. 

He turned his attention back to Lindsey, only to discover the lawyer watching him with a small smirk. Lindsey gestured to the table, where a sauce pan sat, steaming. The pot of stew was gone. 

"Would you care to see today's special?" 

Xander tried desperately to give the impression that he didn't care. Failing that, he tried to give any impression other than that he was dying for even the smallest bit of warmth and food. He realized with a start that his body was slowly swaying towards the pot. Lindsey's smirk had grown. 

"Sure," he said as casually as he could manage, and somehow kept himself from licking his lips. 

Lindsey handed him a bowl of soup as though he were giving over the holy grail. Xander accepted it with as much seriousness, then shoved himself backwards into the corner of his chair, holding it just below his face. His elbows kept banging on his knees as he ate with remarkable slowness. Lindsey took a bowl for himself, and sat down at the table across from him. 

"Perhaps," the lawyer said. "We should talk." 

Xander choked on a small piece of chicken, coughed, and swallowed a bit too hard. "I don't want to talk." 

Lindsey nodded. "Then how about I talk, and you listen?" 

Xander stared at the star-shaped pasta in the broth, not answering. He heard Lindsey sigh softly, and counted it as a victory. 

"Have you ever read Arnold van Gennep's theories on rites of passage?" 

Xander continued to stare at his bowl, then took another bite. He felt the warmth run through him, and wiggled his bare toes. 

"Perhaps not then. Gennep postulates that rites of passage fall into three categories: rites of separation, rites of transition, and rites of incorporation. Do you know what stage you're in?" 

Xander glanced up from his bowl, peering out at him from beneath his brows. "The one where you force a prisoner into an uncomfortable position for days on end and then bore them to death with academic lectures?" 

Lindsey laughed, then his face became serious. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I'm not particularly proud of. But I refuse to be regretful of them." 

Xander sat up straighter, lowering his bowl slightly. "I know this one: you confess your sins to me, coercing me into confessing mine, and then you feel all superior all over again, and you show me some stupid painting you stole." 

Lindsey seemed amused by that. "You're familiar with Camus then." 

"I've been around." 

"Then you must realize the secret of a good trap." Lindsey leaned forward in his chair, his elbows staying just off the edge of the table. "With a good trap, it doesn't matter what your victim knows. They may know every facet of the plot, but cannot avoid the inevitability of falling into it." 

"So you're saying I'm a trap for Buffy?" 

Lindsey smiled. "You're a trap for yourself. Everything that surrounds you, the clothes you're wearing, the food you're eating, the chains that bind you, and the chair your sitting in, even the ground this building was built on, and the vast majority of the people in it, is somehow infused with magic. You've been absorbing it unconsciously for the last week and a half. Within the next week, the magic within you will reach critical mass. The explosion will release enough raw energy to blow out every magic item in a five mile radius, and break open the seal on the Hellmouth itself. At which point your body, having created a magical vacuum, will suck all the energy back into you. The process will repeat, feeding back on itself and growing in magnitude until the Hellmouth shifts." 

Xander stared at Lindsey, his eyes wide and his soup completely forgotten. "I..." 

"You would, in essence, become a walking, talking, living, breathing, surround sound, living color Hellmouth. I'm certain the process will drive you totally and completely insane." 

Xander glanced from the pot, to his jacket, to the bowl, and back to Lindsey. "You're not--" 

"Magical? No, I'm not. But I'm perhaps the only one here who isn't. That's why I was the one who had to abduct you." Lindsey served himself another bowl of soup. "There's a way for you to avoid all of that, of course." 

"You mean, other than Buffy bursting in and rescuing me?" 

"My firm is willing to offer you a special position, scanning new employees and visitors to the building for any magical properties. We can train you to actually use your own magic to read others. All you have to do is allow yourself to be bound to one of our people, we'll get you out of here." 

"What about Drusilla?" Xander struggled to wrap his mind around the entire concept. He'd be the Hellmouth. An insane Hellmouth. He'd have to be killed by Buffy. But what if that didn't work?

"My firm can take care of Drusilla." 

"I'm sure she'll be glad to hear that," Xander let his eyes drift to a point over Lindsey's left shoulder. "Hi Drusilla." 

Lindsey stared Xander in the eye, as though trying to detect a fallacy. 

"You're taking Mr. Rainbow away from us?" Drusilla asked. Lindsey paled, and Xander allowed himself a small, rueful smile. 

Xander stretched and balanced on the balls of his feet, ignoring the twinges he felt now in both knees. It was simply too good to be allowed to stand and to move about the room, however limited that movement was. 

He felt vaguely as though he was on a sugar high. He had an exorbitant amount of energy considering that he'd had little to eat and not nearly enough of the right kind of sleep. He spent his time testing the limit of his new chains, consisting of manacles around his wrists and ankles, which served mostly to shorten his stride, and a large leather collar attached by a heavy chain to one wall., and teasing Lindsey. The latter was his favorite new past time. 

The smug lawyer was now occupying his old spot on the chair. Xander was at the moment serving himself a large bowl of tomato soup. The bowls had been left out on the table by one of Drusilla's henchmen. Xander glanced at Lindsey ,who was staring off to one side. 

"Would you like some soup?" Xander smiled viciously, holding the ladle over the second bowl. Lindsey looked at him for a moment his face blank. "No, never mind, I'm not ACTUALLY going to give you any." 

Lindsey muttered something that sounded like 'rites of incorporation" but it was hard to tell through the swollen lip. The young lawyer wasn't looking nearly so smooth and professional after his encounter with Drusilla. She'd had the upper hand the entire time, though in retrospect, Xander wondered if Lindsey hadn't been holding something back. 

Xander sat down to eat, but stood back up just as quickly. He was too worked up to sit. He paced quickly, the speed of his steps overcoming his limited stride. , and he didn't so much as eat as suck down his soup. He noticed as he went to get another bowlful that Lindsey was watching him. 

"What?" Xander was surprised by the sharpness of his tone. 

"You can feel it, can't you? But you don't know what to do with it." Lindsey smiled stiffly, wincing a bit as the expression pulled his bruised jaw. "You're going to explode soon. Pacing won't help." 

"Ah!" Xander stopped pacing and bounced instead, his fingers rapping themselves in the edge of the open jacket. "But I've found a flaw in your plan! Magic attracts itself, so if I was a 'magic vacuum', I wouldn't draw the energy back in!" 

"I used the term as a metaphor." Lindsey shifted, trying vainly to adjust himself. "Your body has become too used to the magic. Simply the in-born survival instinct would pull it in ." 

Xander scoffed, and started pacing again. 

"You've still got a chance. Wolfram and Hart pay their pet mages well." 

Xander fingered the collar, playing with the heavy chain. "And how are you going to get me out of here?" 

"The firm has its connections. Why do you think Drusilla didn't kill me?" 

"So you want me to sell my soul to your company instead of Drusilla. No thanks." 

"You think what Drusilla wants with you is going to be better than Wolfram and Hart?" 

"I'll get out of here on my own." 

"Really." Xander couldn't help but wonder how Lindsey managed to sound superior in his position. He'd probably learned it at the same time he'd learned to be obnoxious. "Just how do you plan to do that?" 

"I have powerful friends as well." 

"All looking in the wrong place." 

Xander glared at him. 

"They won't find you, Xander, they're on the wrong side of town." 

Xander thrust a bowl into Lindsey's face. "Eat your soup and shut up." 

Lindsey kept pestering Xander about joining 'the Firm', his arguments becoming more urgent as Xander grew day by day more restless. He strain against the chains, chaffing his ankles and neck. In his efforts to stretch and relieve his aching muscles of the building energy. Nothing worked.

For two days, he didn't sleep. He lay motionless on the floor for hours, during which Drusilla would watch, her eyes glittering, as her henchmen changed his dingy, rumpled clothes for a fresh set. As soon as she was gone, Lindsey's rant would begin anew, and when he could stand it no longer, he would stand and again try to maneuver his way out of the chains. One morning, after the vampires and demons of the night had returned, he stood, tested his ankle chains, and felt his knee give out. He fell, stayed gasping on his throbbing knees, and turned to Lindsey. 

"Okay." He said, closing his eye to the Lawyer's cheerful expression. "You win. I give up." 

Xander opened his eyes to see Lindsey nod, and a crash from just outside the door drew his attention. 

"Well, that was fast." 

Lindsey's voice was tight. "Those aren't my people." 

The door flew open, and Xander caught a glimpse of the lavish, gold colored walls of the hallway before the figure standing there stepped forward and let Xander identify her. 

"See Buffy, I told you he was in here." 

Buffy rolled her eyes as she stepped up behind her sister. "Yeah, Dawn, you're very smart. Shut up." 

"On second thought," Xander told Lindsey. "I don't think I'll join you after all." 

A figure slammed into him, and would have knocked him to the floor under the table if he hadn't been brought up short by the collar. He gagged and forced himself and Anya back to an upright position. 

"Hey hon." He wrapped himself in her arms and buried himself in her hair. 

You're okay." Anya sat back a bit. "I was worried." She looked him up and down. "You look good, in a tortured captive kind of way." 

"Yeah, but I don't feel good. Can you just get me out of here already?" His head was spinning unpleasantly and his body was screaming for movement. 

Anya nodded and backed up just enough for Buffy to lean over and break the chains. Xander continued to lean on her as several pairs of hands lifted him to his feet. His brain suddenly felt like it had been wrapped in thick, transparent gauze. When Lindsey spoke, drawing everyone's attention away from him, he let his eyes droop, and the world moved even further from him. Buffy's voice in his ear started him back to semi-consciousness. 

"What?" She was supporting him almost completely, though Anya was still at his side. Lindsey's voice sounded surprisingly... frightened. 

"If you value your life and his, step away from him." 

Angel was standing over the chained lawyer. He couldn't seem to decide whether to free Lindsey or leave him to Drusilla. He was growing angry at him. "What do you know Lindsey?" 

Buffy tightened her grip on Xander as his head began to float, and the gauze that separated him from the world became thicker, more opaque. He let his eyes fall shut and concentrated on breathing. 

"He's taking your energy." Lindsey was saying. "If he gets any more, neither of you will survive intact. Now MOVE!" 

Xander wondered about his as something hit his calves and someone started shouting. He forced his eyes open and realized he was kneeling, and that Riley was taking Buffy's place. The Slayer's face was pale as she stared at him, and he wondered what had just happened. 

Tara was kneeling in front of him a moment later, holding her palm just beside his left eye, framing his face. He noticed a long scar extending from the top of her middle finger straight down her palm to her wrist. He pictured Willow running her fingers over the pale straight line, and he smiled. Tara met his eyes and smiled back. 

"You're being overwhelmed." Tara held her other hand up by his chin. "I can help. Will you let me?" 

Xander thought about this as well as he could, and realized he didn't know how to answer. "How?" 

"Like this." Tara took his right hand from Anya and held it in her left, by her face, mimicking hers. 

"A binding spell. Of course." Anya hugged Xander, and then vanished from his side. 

"But I though--" Willow's voice was soft. Anya explained quickly, and surprisingly quietly. 

"Not that kind. She's using the magic to bind itself, hold it in check till it can be used." 

"Will you let me?" Tara repeated, her eyes holding Xander's body perfectly still. Xander wasn't sure if he nodded, but Tara understood. She leaned forward, drawing him in, and as she shut her eyes, so did he. Their foreheads touched, and brilliant lines of color etched themselves on his eyelids. 

The lines formed a complex knot, color looping over color faster than he could keep up. The pattern sprawled along the blank slate of his mind, and then suddenly tightened, as though pulled at all ends, forming a small ball of white light in his vision. The light vanished, and his mind cleared, though his muscles still ached. 

He opened his eyes to find Tara staring at him. 

"Thank you." He stared back for a long moment, his relief bringing a large, goofy grin to his face. And then he remembered where they were. 

He moved his hand from her face quickly enough that the manacle still clamped on his wrist seemed to be left behind for a moment. 

"For the binding! The energy! I was going to explode, and needed release, and you— that's not what I mean...." 

"That's okay." Tara stood and offered him a hand. Xander took it, and was disappointed to find himself still unsteady on his feet. Anya came up immediately and Riley lent him an arm when she couldn't quite hold him up. Dawn walked ahead of them out of what turned out to be a large residential house, talking rapidly about how she'd realized where he was when she was spending the night at her friend's house across the street. Xander simply nodded his head at her, wondering where on Earth she'd managed to get so much energy. 

"That's great, Dawn," he said when she finally finished. "Can we go home now?" 

As it tuned out, they couldn't. Tara's spell had only worked as a temporary fix, and they needed to find some place to loose the energy where it couldn't hurt anything. Giles drove him, Anya, Tara, and Willow several miles out of town while Riley took Buffy and Dawn home, and Angel's crew went to the magic shop. 

Giles pulled off the small, two lane highway at a long meadow, and Xander stumbled out the other side. He'd been absorbing magic from some charms Giles has left in the glove compartment without thinking, and he was feeling again like he was going to fall apart if he didn't do something. Anya supported him as he sank to the ground, while Giles, Willow, and Tara stood above him and chanted. He felt the power build up in him and he squeezed his eyes shut, his body tensing and shuddering. The chant ended and he froze. For a long moment, nothing happened. 

Xander was just beginning to wonder if it didn't work when his back spasmed and he sneezed violently. 

Willow shouted as she and the others were all flung over, and her necklace exploded. One of the trees by the road caught fire, and Giles' glove compartment began to smoke. 

Xander shoved himself into a seated position, and watched as Giles ran, cursing, to his car, and Willow helped Anya stamp out what was left of the incinerated tree. He started laughing, and his voice seemed to echo even on the flat land. Tara, who was still sitting on the gravel, rubbing her head, joined in and soon they were all laughing. Well, all but Anya, who just looked at them as though they'd lost their minds. 

Once they'd finished, and started getting back into Giles' mostly undamaged car, Anya spoke up. 

"Drop us off at Xander's apartment." She put a possessive arm over Xander's shoulder. "I want to try having kinky sex before we take the manacles off." 

Xander sighed, didn't bother blushing, and leaned into his girlfriend. A few moments later, he fell asleep. 

Xander closed his eyes and drew a blue squiggly line with his mind. He added a green one, then a red, and started trying to weave them together. After a moment the whole design went yellow, and he cracked open an eye, glancing at the Celtic knot Tara had drawn for him in crayon on black construction paper. He was way off. 

"Concentrate." He hunched his shoulders, closed his eyes again, and started over. "Concentrate. Concen--Anya, that's not helping." 

Anya leaned over his shoulder. "You sure? You're really tense." Her hands paused mid-rub. "Wait, I know!" Anya grabbed the drawing. 

"Hey!" 

"Take off your shirt. And close your eyes." Anya did the first for him and then continued with her plan without checking to see if he obeyed. She ran a finger nail lightly up his spine, and then began drawing loops that lead down around his shoulder blades. "That's the blue one." 

Xander closed his eyes, suddenly realizing her intentions. "Start over." He leaned forward on the couch, giving her more access. Anya pushed him forward. 

"Lie down on the floor." 

Anya continued to trace the pattern on his back, and Xander soon developed a vivid picture of the knot. As soon as he finished it, it contracted. Anya paused. 

"Did you get it?" 

Xander purred, flexing his back a bit, looking for her hand. "Not quite?" 

Anya ran her fingers along his back again, and the knot was again tied. Xander shifted his shoulders. 

"I should practice." 

He could feel Anya's smile in her fingers as they drew a new pattern. 

"Guess what I draw." 

Xander smiled as they worked through letters, a smiley face, a tree, and a pair of glasses, and then Anya was drawing a long squiggle along his spine. Xander laughed. 

"Can't fool me, that's not anything, is it." 

Anya didn't answer, but drew it again, a little harder. 

"Ookay, is it a tether ball court?" 

Anya's finger never stopped and her nail stared to scrape his skin. "Ahn?" 

Xander twisted slightly, and then tried to flip over completely as he realized that she was staring at the wall, her mouth hanging open, her eyes vacant. She stopped him from turning with one hand, and her nails began to draw blood. "Anya!" 

A growl echoed from her throat and a burning sensation started to follow her finger on his back, the pattern seeming to repeat somewhere deep inside of him. Xander felt the energy swell again, and started trying to form the knot in his mind. He got it right on the third try, and as it drew tight, he felt something fiery flow into him and cool. Anya let out a soft moan and collapsed onto his back, unconscious. 

Xander shuddered and rolled over, reaching for the phone. He had set the magic shop on his speed dial. 

"Can you remember the design?" Giles asked, pacing in front of the couch where Anya sat, sipping a tall glass of orange juice. She shook her head. 

"I don't even remember doing it." She sounded miserable. Xander rubbed a hand over her head and then started unbuttoning his shirt. He slid it off and turned, holding it at his wrists. The cold air stung the scratches, and Giles exclaimed something that sounded suspiciously like "Oh dear." 

Willow ran a finger over the welts and the touch made Xander wince. "How many times did she draw it?" 

Xander slid his shirt back on, feeling a little self-conscious. "Four. Maybe five." 

"It's part of a spell." Willow said. "But the design isn't finished. It has to be drawn thirteen times and then traced in... well.... The important thing is that she didn't get that far." 

"What does the spell do?" Buffy skipped over what would be Xander's first question. "And how did someone make Anya do it?" 

"It's a control spell It can be cast sympathetically... on a form or a symbol representing a person, but its more powerful when cast directly. When you draw the symbol the thirteenth time, you etch the name of the controller beneath it. Usually a caster is used instead of the controller, especially if it is cast contagiously...er, directly on a person." Willow's hand hovered just beyond Xander's lower back. "If it's cast properly on the living person, they can be driven to do anything." 

Anya paled and took a long drink of her orange juice. 

"So someone cast it on a picture of Anya to make her cast it on me?" Xander sat down sharply. "Why? And how did I stop it?" 

"If you did the pattern I taught you," Tara spoke up for the first time since she and Willow had arrived. "Then you drew the magic controlling her in." 

Xander nodded. "Useful spell." 

"Very." 

"I think Drusilla is trying to bind you." Giles said, pulling a small notebook out of his pocket and flipping it open to a well worn page. "She needs your consent, though it may be magically bought." 

"Great. So she's trying to brain wash me." 

"Perhaps you should leave tomorrow with Cordelia. Go to LA." Giles looking him in the eye. 

"Hello!" Xander gestured wildly, nearly knocking over Anya's glass. "Job! Apartment! I used up all my vacation time being kidnaped. I can't just leave!" 

"Would you rather be the cause of Armageddon?" 

Xander stared up at Giles. "That's not fair." He stood, angry. "No! I shouldn't have to choose!" 

"I agree." 

Xander's fists clenched. "I just got my life in order, Giles! You want me to throw it away--" 

"I had to," Buffy put a hand on his arm. Xander turned to protest. 

"So did I." Giles said. "I was comfortable in England, but when Buffy needed a watcher, I came." Giles lowered his arms, his eyes still never leaving Xander's face. "I agree you shouldn't be made to choose. But you must. It isn't easy, and it might not be pleasant. But you must." 

Xander stared around at the people in his apartment, the apartment he'd made several down payments on with money from jobs he enjoyed and excelled in, the apartment he'd just managed to call home, filled with the people he called friends, and he realized Giles was right. If he did this now, he could save a lot of people a lot of pain. If he didn't.... No one was sure what might happen if he didn't. 

"If I go to LA, Wolfram and Hart will track me down." 

"You'll have Angel to protect you." 

"I have Buffy to protect me here." 

"She can't watch you all the time." 

"Neither can Angel. I refuse to be a fugitive, Giles!" He sat down on the couch. His couch. "If I start running now, I'm never going to stop. There has to be a better way." 

Giles nodded. "We'd best get started on the research then." 

"What if we just bind him to all of us?" Willow let her book fall shut with a loud *clomp*, completely giving up one her search. "That way it'll be harder for Drusilla to take control of the power." 

"But then absolutely every time we do a spell, all the energy is mine. I'd either die or go psycho-hellmouth boy. No thanks." Xander stared at the stack of books on the counter of the magic shop. "Can we bind me to myself?" 

"The magic would simply be trapped then." Even Giles had given up on the books. They were all sitting in a small line along the wall. 

"I could learn magic," 

"That would take years." Tara was leaning against Willow's shoulder. Her voice sounded hollow. "You'd need the discipline before you could control the power. What would we do if we needed the power now?" 

Xander moaned deep in his throat without opening his mouth, and closed his eyes. "Can we at least keep Anya from getting possessed again?" 

Anya shivered by his side. 

"Tara and I can make some talismans. It wouldn't keep her completely safe, but it would make it more difficult." Willow sorted through her satchel. "Maybe we should make one for everyone?" 

"Yes. That would be advantageous." Giles sat up straighter. "Perhaps there is something we could give Xander to use?" 

"What about Dawn?" Xander opened his eyes again, reaching for a book. "She has magic, a lot of it. I can feel it." 

The others all looked vaguely uncomfortable. Xander realized that he must have missed something important in his captivity. "What?" 

"Dawn doesn't have magic." Buffy said quietly. "She is magic. She's.... I have to protect her." 

Xander stared at her for a moment. "She was placed wasn't she?" 

Buffy frowned and nodded. "But how.... Never mind. It's not important. But I don't think we should bind our two main magics. Then the enemy could just grab one or the other, rather than both." 

Xander nodded again. "Have to agree to be bound, right?" 

"Essentially, yes." Giles was scanning his notes again. "Were someone to bind you against your will, they risk the possibility of killing your soul, thus in essence destroying the magic. But your acquiescence is not necessary to use the unbound power." 

"So what do we do?" 

"We protect you. It's the only thing we can do." 

"I don't believe that." 

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's true." 

Xander closed his eyes and tied the knot in his mind. It felt good, as proof that he had SOME control over the power filling him, so he did it again. And again, and again and again. The more he did it, the faster it was tied and the smaller the rock hard pinprick got. A feeling of euphoria began to build. He pressed it smaller and smaller until he could hardly see the dim, distant star of the magic. He tied it again, and the star faded completely. He tied it one more time, felt something crack, and the euphoria swept him up. He abandoned himself to the feeling, letting himself slip into it and away from the disaster his life was turning into. 

"What did you do?" A voice penetrated his darkness, and he opened his eyes. He felt suddenly exhausted, and yawned. 

"Hmm?" 

"What did you just do?" Anya was no longer next to him, but in front of him. Everyone else was standing, moving to get started with something. None of them had spoken. Xander glanced around, letting Anya help him to his feet. No one else was in the room. 

That wasn't the most intelligent thing you did, Kid." 

Xander stopped searching for the source, and decided to ignore it. It was probably an anthropomorphized conscience, another side effect of his magic. 

"What do you think I am, some kinda cricket in a bowler? I oughta whack you with an umbrella, if I had one." 

Xander sat at the counter as Giles closed down the store. He wondered if they'd let him go back to his apartment tonight. The scratches on his back burned. He spotted a short, dark haired man in the corner of his vision, who vanished as he turned. He yawned again, and wondered why he was suddenly so tired. 

"'Cause you tied down your energy you stupid git. Nearly trashed yourself in the process. You're pulling in the energy for blocks, and shoving it all away. Kept me from keeping an eye on my old pals." 

"Okay," Xander kept his mouth shut and his voice quiet, so as not to draw attention to himself. "And you would be?" 

"A spirit. The name doesn't matter any more. But the fact is you're acting like a twit. You're hellbent on destroying yourself." 

"Am not." 

"You're refusing help and trying to squash your own soul. I'd say that's destructive." 

"It's the magic, not my soul." 

"You really think so? 'S the same thing. Haven't you figured that out yet?" 

"What do you mean?" 

A brief flash of person struck his retinas, and he realized that the spirit was in front of him. His body tingled slightly. 

"You've had the magic forever. You've had your soul forever. They're the same thing, Kid. It's been the same for thousands of years." 

"I don't understand." 

"Every one of you, every life you've lived has been drowning in magic. You think it's a coincidence that you, the guy who's been brought up in a magical crossroads, ends up buddy-buddy with the Slayer? You were marked years ago, Kid. Before this body was ever conceived. You can't stop it, you can only hold on for the ride." 

"Well, that's just cheerful." 

"It's not supposed to be. But it's as true as anything else in this world." 

"So I'm crushing my own soul? What about the explosions?" 

"Excess. Too much soul is as bad as not enough. You get weighed down by guilt and feeling. Just take a look at Angel. He's only just finding his balance." 

"You know Angel." 

"Who do you think I was watching?" 

"Why are you telling me this?" 

"'Cause knowledge is a headache, and truth the biggest migraine of the human condition. Death and ignorance are the feared escape, and the innocense of a purely magic soul such as yours keeps us all from going insane with the pain." 

"So I'm just here for my soul?" 

"The body and soul can survive without the mind. The body and mind can exist without the soul. Even the mind and soul can go on without the body. But it takes all three to make something happen. Don't give up on yourself. You lose one part, and you've lost it all. I already made that mistake." 

"Who are you?" 

"Pure mind and soul, Kid. I turned down my body once to save lives and twice to watch them unfold. You only get two chances. You've lost one just now, don't let the second pass you by." 

"I still don't understand." 

"'Course not, you're still mortal. Ask my boy Angel sometime about his choice. It led him through hell. Yours might not be so extreme, but its just as important. Opportunity knocks once, and then breaks in to demand your attention. You've got choices, don't waste them." 

"I thought you said I had to accept my fate." 

"Don't get smart with me Kid. On you and your friends rests the future of the ones I sacrificed myself to save. I'd rather not see that sacrifice wasted." 

Xander smiled, forgot himself, and spoke aloud. "And if I fall, screw it all up?" 

"You won't." Two voices replied. The spirit flashed again as Buffy's arm weaved itself across his shoulders. 

"We'll fix this." Buffy gave his shoulders a squeeze. 

The spirit seemed to wink. "And if they don't, I'll be sure to catch you." 

Xander frowned, but followed his friends out of the shop. He stepped up close behind Giles. "What was that you said earlier, about killing my soul? And how it would destroy the magic? What did you mean by that, exactly?" 

"Larry Boy, Larry, Larry, Larry Boy, lean and mean, green machine, Larry Boy," Xander sang quietly to himself as he made himself comfortable on Giles' couch the next morning. He'd managed to get them to let him go back to his apartment the night before, on the condition that Buffy stay the night on the couch. Anya had been upset, but Giles had promised to teach him a bit on how to use and control the power, which would hopefully help his prospects for future privacy. 

"Xander." 

"I. Am. That. Hero!" 

"Er." Giles gave him one of his more frustrated looks. "I need you to calm down." 

"Calm. I can do that." Xander sat still, fixing his eyes on Giles'. He smothered a laugh as Giles started to squirm slightly. Giles tried to ignore him and pulled out his pocket watch. 

"I'm certain you know what to do with this." Giles began to swing the watch on the chain in front of Xander's eyes. 

"Watch the cucumber." Xander murmured before focusing himself in on the watch. He pictured the look on Giles' face when he said it. It took a great deal of will power not to laugh. He'd been exceptionally giddy since the night before, when after taking a three hour nap, he'd been up all night watching Veggie Tales. Buffy had put up with it as far as she could before throwing something at him on the second viewing of the "I Love My Lips" song. 

But that wasn't important, he told himself. He had to watch the watch. Watch the watch. Watch the cu... watch. Watch. Watch. 

Xander felt himself slump slightly as he continued watching, letting Giles' voice wash over him. He never realized quite how soothing a British accent could be. Giles said something about finding his center, and he let his focus turn inwards. 

It was surprisingly easy to find the magic. It just required clearing himself of everything else, letting the thoughts fall where they wanted to until they sank into the depths of his mind, leaving one bright, burning spark behind. 

"Is it there." 

Xander let a yes murmur its way through his lips. It would take too much focus away from the light to do more. 

"Good. Expand it." 

How? Xander reached out a hand, and realized he was solid in this place. He rested his palm over the spark, surprised at how it didn't seem to have any substance. He trapped it between two fingers and lifted. The light seemed to stick to his fingers as he pulled them apart, growing into a sphere about the size of a tennis ball. He put a hand on either side, and let it grow to that of a basketball. He held it up in front of his face as Giles' voice once more flowed through him. 

"Excellent. What color is it?" 

Color? Xander stared at it, and watched it shift from blue to green to red without pausing for longer than a moment on any single color. "It's not." 

"No color?" 

"No. It shifts." 

"Try to make it focus on a color. Make it stay in one shade." 

Xander frowned. The ball was green again now, and moving towards a strange orange color. With a force of will, he pulled the green back, but it began shifting the other way. He let the color bounce for several moments until it too settled, and he realized that if he gave the light a freedom to do what it liked, he could control it. It didn't make sense, but it seemed to work. 

"It's green." 

"Very good. Can you shape it?" 

It was a sphere now, so he touched the sides again, pressing in this time. The sphere only shrank. He furrowed his metaphysical eyebrows, flattened his hands as much as possible and pressed again. The sides flattened slightly and after a bit of concentration, he held a large, flat disk. He tried folding it, and had something that vaguely resembled the paper hat Willow had taught him how to make. He crumpled that back into a ball, and tried separating it. The light didn't give for a long moment, but he flattened it out again and pulled-- 

and a sharp pain ripped through his body, causing him to gasp and fall forward off the couch. Giles, not expecting either occurrence, only barely managed to grab him before he hit the floor. He took several long breaths, steadying his shaking body, and knew he'd messed up again. He'd been lucky not to tear his soul in two, thus ruining his second chance. He shivered and sat up. 

"Can we try that again?" 

Giles was staring at him, the shock evident in his eyes. "I'm not certain we should." His complexion was pale, and the hand clutching his watch showed its veins in stark relief. "What happened?" 

"Shaping is not so good an idea. I think I ripped it--" 

"Good God. Are you certain?" 

"No?" Xander sat back. "But we were getting somewhere. I was starting to control it. Let's try again." 

Giles forced his hand to relax its grip on the erratically swinging watch and smiled slightly. "Yes. Don't do that again, all right?" 

"Don't have to tell me twice." 

"Just the once then?" The spirit asked. Xander's eyes shot involuntarily to one side, and he spotted the man for the briefest of moments. "Good." 

"The watch, Xander." Giles began to swing it, once more leaning forward towards him. Xander refocused, letting his body relax. He felt the spirit shift slightly, then surrendered himself again to hypnosis. 

"Well, shit." 

Xander snapped his head up from where he was looking over the plans for his next construction assignment. He'd been promoted shortly after healing enough to go back full time, and was now settled into working just the one job. It gave him more time in the evenings to spend at the magic shop, working on his control and helping Giles with various random projects until the others arrived. In the several weeks that he'd been doing this, however, he had never heard those words come from Giles' mouth. 

It made sense, he supposed. After all, "oh dear" and "good God" had stopped provoking the right kind of reaction. 

"What? What's wrong? How do we kill it?" 

A phantom burning in his back reminded him of the long healed scratches, but he shoved those thoughts aside, stuffed his blueprints back into his portfolio, and quickly crossed the room to where Giles was staring dumbfounded at the book in front of him. 

"We, er, well, we don't." Giles glanced up at him. "I suggest we call the others immediately. It is, of course, of the utmost importance." 

"I got that with the 'shit' part." 

"Yes. We'd best move into the back room for the duration. Anya, if you would close up please?" 

Anya nodded and got to work on the cash register. Giles handed Xander several books and a cordless phone, and led the way towards the back. 

"So what's the what?" Xander set the books down on a small table and sat down next to them. "Who do we need to call first, and who can we save as the donut gatherers?" 

"I'm sorry?" 

"I'm thinking obviously Buffy, probably Willow and Tara, what with all those witchy powers and everything. But we can save Riley and Spike until we decide we need some extra muscle." 

"Call everyone now, Xander. We're going to need all the help we can get. Tell Buffy to bring Dawn with her, and put in a call to Angel's office in LA." 

"Well, shit." Xander started dialing. 

"Yes, that's what I said." 

"Yes, Buffy, I'm sure he said to bring Dawn as well." Xander leaned back against the wall, rubbing his temple. This wasn't supposed to be the hard part. 

"Then how is your mom doing?" Xander met Giles' eyes, and smiled as the man rolled his eyes and picked up the other line to make some of the other calls. This one was likely to take a little while. "But if she's as obnoxious as you say, than your mother doesn't want her around to make her headache worse.... Buffy.... Buffy, come on now.... Not quite no.... He said 'shit'.... Good. See you two in a few moments then. Bye," Xander hung up the phone and took a deep breath. "They grow out of that stage, right? Sibling rivalry turns into companionship?" 

"Only if they're lucky. And perhaps not till Dawn herself has matured a bit." 

Xander nodded and started dialing the number on the small business card Giles used as a bookmark. "I'm sure the fact that Buffy now KNOWS that Dawn's not really her sister doesn't help." He shook his head. "Who knew that all those comments on adoption and unnaturalness were true?" 

"Yes," Giles was peering into his book again. "How has that dimming exercise I've had you working on going?" 

Xander fidgeted. Giles had been giving him "homework" on his controlling skills, but that particular one he hadn't gotten around to yet. He was still afraid he would take it too far, screw up his second chance, and lose his soul. Or something. He wasn't quite clear any more on everything the spirit had told him during those first few experiments with the power, but he was certain of one thing: if he wasn't careful, he could screw up royally and lose everything. And since that seemed to be what he was really good at, he had to be exceptionally careful. 

"Great!" He spread a smile across his lips, but knew it didn't fool Giles for a moment. "You know, in the not-so-great-because-I'm-actually-scared-to-try-it sense of the word." 

"Xander. I realize that none of this is easy for you, but we're going to need to mask you. We can't have you falling into the wrong hands." 

"Which hands would those be, precisely?" Xander felt himself getting angry again, as he did every time one of his friends slipped up and referred to him like he was nothing more than another magic talisman. He thought for a moment about the days when they hadn't known he'd had anything special about him, and wondered which was better. "And which are the right ones? Oh yeah, we haven't figured that out yet. I'm still floating around, up for grabs. Whoever wants my soul most gets it in the end." 

"Xander, you know that's not true." Giles slammed his book shut (though not before he managed to mark off the passage of interest), and looked him straight in the eye. 

"Do I?" 

Giles opened his mouth to say something else, when Anya entered, followed by Buffy, Dawn and Riley. They could hear the outer door open, letting Willow and Tara in. Angel and his crowd wouldn't arrive for another hour or so. 

Xander kept his eyes on Giles', wondering if he would continue the discussion. The other man simply turned to face the newcomers. Xander let out his breath and sat down. He knew he'd have to actually talk about everything with the watcher-cum-shopkeeper eventually, but he was hoping to hold that time off as long as possible. 

"The first thing we need to do," Giles watched the group of young people standing in front of him, waiting for him to tell them what was going on. He seemed flustered by the entire situation, and Xander knew he wasn't going to like what he was going to say. "Is get Dawn and Xander out of here." 

"What?" Xander stepped forward out of Anya's grasp. Dawn made noises to protest, but was stopped by his hand on her shoulder. "Giles, what are you talking about?" 

"There is an evil set to arise in Sunnydale in two day's time. It's more powerful that perhaps anything we've ever faced, and its goal is to use the key to access even more power and evil. In order to do that, it needs an exceptionally large amount of magical energy. The kind of energy it can only get through two sources in this town. The hellmouth and you. It will need both to succeed." 

Dawn looked confused. "What does that have to do with me?" 

Xander shot a look at Buffy. "You didn't tell her?" 

"Tell me what?" 

"She didn't need to know!" 

"Bullshit!" Xander turned back to face Giles. "We're not leaving." 

"You have to. If this evil manages to get its hands on either one of you--" 

"There has to be another way." 

"No, dammit!"

Giles slammed a book down on the table, giving Xander a hard edged glare. "There IS no other way. Don't you think that if there were I would tell you? I understand that you don't want to leave. Neither of you do. But you have NO choice. It's time both of you accepted this and moved on." 

Xander stared at him for a long moment, silent. Dawn looked from him to Giles and back before speaking again, quietly. "What are you talking about." 

Xander glared at Buffy. "You're the key, Dawn. And apparently something needs both of us to destroy the world." 

"Oh." Emotions warred briefly for control of Dawn's face, then left it blank. "Um, where would we go?" 

Giles blinked at her. "That's a good question." He looked down at his books again. "I would suggest you both travel to LA with Angel when he arrives. However, the further you get from Sunnydale, the better." 

Xander opened his mouth to argue again, thinking of his job, his apartment, and Dawn's education, but was stopped by Tara, who spoke suddenly and softly from the stack of books he'd placed earlier. 

"What if we stop the demon from coming?" 

"That wouldn't--" Giles stopped abruptly mid-tirade and turned to face her. "I'm sorry, what was that?" 

"If we cast a spell, to stop the demon from coming? It'd take at least three experienced spell casters, and a lot of extra energy, but we've got all that. And I think all the other necessary elements are right here in the magic shop." 

Xander nudged Willow with his elbow. "Did I ever mention how much I love your girlfriend? In a purely platonic way of course...." 

"It won't be easy," Tara smiled slightly at Xander's comment. "But we could do it." 

"How, where, and does Dawn have to be there too?" Buffy stepped forward, giving her sister sidelong looks, just as the outer door opened again, and Angel hurried into the room. 

"We got here as fast as we could." He scanned the room, and seemed surprised to find everyone in one piece. "What's going on?" 

"Well," Giles adjusted his glasses and began opening a few more books. "We're going to do a spell. And if that doesn't work, Xander and Dawn are going to join you in LA." 

Angel's face was dead-panned as he looked from Xander, to Dawn, and then to Buffy, before looking back at Giles. "What kind of spell, and how can I make sure that it works?" 

Dawn huffed, and Xander smiled slightly. "I think we've just been insulted." 

"Now, remember, dim the light. Don't shut it off completely." 

"I know, Giles." Xander sat cross-legged in the middle of the small clearing. He and Giles had arrived early in the clearing in order to practice some control techniques he'd likely need whether or not the spell worked. Xander fidgeted slightly, then let himself slip into the hyper-reality where he could reach his soul. The sphere had grown in size since he'd started practicing, and was now the size of a large beach ball. Xander concentrated and shrunk it down to something slightly larger than a soccer ball and simply stared at it. He could see Giles watching him in his peripheral vision, washed out by the magic he was focused on. 

"Dim it?" 

"As much as you feel comfortable doing, yes." 

"If you just want that much, we might as well leave now." 

"Xander, please." 

He grumbled a little, then focused again on his sphere. He couldn't help wincing ever so slightly as he brought the light down until he could begin to see through it. He nearly panicked and lost control completely when Giles' shout cut through his concentration. 

"Good lord!" 

"What?" Xander's mind snapped back to reality fast enough to give himself a headache. He spun around in his seated position, looking for danger. Giles' hand on his shoulder stopped him from jumping to his feet. 

"Nothing. I apologize for startling you. It's just...." Giles was watching him intently. "That was perhaps one of the strangest things I've ever witnessed." 

"Huh?" Xander looked down at himself. He looked the same. "Is it noticeable?" 

"Not in the sense that you can see it, no." Giles had his notebook out and was writing rapidly. "I can't place a name of the exact change but...." 

Xander let the sound trail off as he refocused himself back on his soul. It was still faintly glowing, and he brightened it back up. He let it flow in and out of light for a moment, and then simply let it rest at its normal state. The others were starting to arrive, so he let himself fall back to the real world. 

He had a feeling he wouldn't be there for long that night. 

Much to Buffy's delight, it had been determined that Dawn did not need to be present at the spell casting. Everyone else was planning to be there however, especially after it was determined through sources in both Sunnydale and LA that Drusilla had a vested interest in the rising of the demon. None of which did anything to assuage Xander's growing anxiety at the spell he would soon be involved in. 

Xander wasn't a big fan of spells as a whole. Some how, they all had this terrible tendency of coming back to bite him on the ass. The fact that Tara had told him that in order to use his energy she had to separate him into his three components, body, mind, and soul, didn't help either. She wasn't sure what it would be like, as she had never performed the spell herself, but she had guaranteed its safety, and told him that it probably meant that he just wouldn't be able to control his body for the duration. 

The very thought of it made him fidget. Or maybe it was the cold breeze that blew up just as he was taking off the hooded sweatshirt he was wearing so that Willow could start painting the necessary symbols. His bare toes curled up in the wet grass, and he carefully wiped off the simple, cotton pants he was wearing. Apparently, any metal of any kind would mess with the spell, so he'd had to put on the clothing from his captivity. 

Once Willow finished the symbols and Anya had inscribed a diagram on the ground with an oak branch and some colored sand, the three girls joined hands around him. Xander realized with a start that this act put him in very close proximity to all of them. 

"Um, if I fall over during this, I apologize for any body parts I may accidentally crush." He played with the drawstring of his pants for a moment, realized with a start where that put his hands, tried several other positions, and finally just crossed his arms over his chest. Willow clucked her tongue at him. 

"Don't do that, the symbols need to be uncovered." 

Xander sighed and let his hands fall by his side. It took a lot of self control not to start fidgeting again. "Can we just get this over with?" 

Giles, Wesley, and Cordelia took up places just beyond the three witches, holding candles of varying colors and scents. All six began chanting. Xander, remembering Tara's instructions, refocused on his energy, picturing the large sphere between Willow and Anya. 

It was glowing even brighter than before. Green and blue warred for dominance it its color, but with a thought, he settled it down to a solid white color. He reached out his mind, his hands twitching by his sides as he metaphysically began shaping the object into a large, flat sheet. He held it for a moment, hesitating and savoring the feeling of the grass under his feet and the breeze which was still giving him goose bumps. He heard the spell casters pause in their chant, and knew he had to stop hesitating. He swung the sheet over and around him like a cloak, and closed his eyes. 

The change was instantaneous. One moment he was the sum of his experiences, his sensations, and his emotions, and the next his world split. He wondered if this was what being on some sort of strange drug was like. 

He was standing in the midst of a large crowd of people, all of whom were moving slowly to a light, tinkling music with a heavy back beat. The area reminded him of the Bronze but made entirely out of glass. He could see the stars and crescent moon through the ceiling, superimposed over the cloudy full-mooned sky he knew was supposed to be there. He could still feel the grass and the breeze, but on top of it was a sensation as though he was floating through the crowd. With every move he made he knew he was standing still, and energy seemed to spark through him as he headed towards the glass-brick bar at the far end of the room. 

The chanting and the meadow had somehow been reduced to a background noise, along with a strange, fading, shifting rainbow of dim color that occasionally forced itself in front of the strange club. His fear and excitement faded in and out with the rainbow, leaving confusion in its wake as he sat down on one of the dark blue velvet stools and motioned for the bartender. 

The man who appeared in front of him was tall, with long dark hair, and the most indiscriminate features that Xander had ever seen. It took him a moment to realize that that was because they were shifting with every new nuance of the music that played in the background. One moment the man had a pointed nose and round chin, the next a pointed chin and flat nose. The only things that remained constant were his hair and his eyes, which were a piercing pale blue color that bordered on transparency. The man greeted him simply, and asked what he wanted. 

Xander looked at him for a long moment. It was an excellent question. After a bit of thought, he said: "Answers." 

The Tender smiled, showing of a set of slightly crooked teeth, as though he'd had braces to correct them, but had stopped wearing his retainer too soon. "Got a smoke?" 

"No." Xander searched his pockets, and was surprised to find himself wearing a simple pair of jeans and a blank red t-shirt. He found a pack of gum, and set it on the counter. "How about some pure chewing satisfaction?" 

"That'll do." The Tender pocketed a piece and looked seriously at him. "What are the questions?" 

"Where are we?" 

"A place between realms. It's known to most as Saturnalia. It can be reached in many forms."

"Forms?" 

"You're in a mental form now. Your mind is here, while your body and spirit lie on different planes. Someday, you may come back in spirit only, or return complete." 

Xander nodded. The chanting had reached a melodic pitch that matched that of the music, traveling up and down the scales. Or perhaps the music had changed to match the chanting. 

"Who are you?" 

The Tender smiled again, his eyes roving over the crowds. "I'm here to serve the costumers, whether they want drinks, food, or knowledge. My services are almost entirely free." 

"What, do you take a person's soul?" 

"Only if they want buffalo wings." 

"How do I keep Drusilla from taking control?" 

The Tender took another few gum pieces. "You have to bind yourself. But you can only do so to one person." 

"Who?" 

The Tender shook his head. "I can't tell you everything. And I don't give advice. For that, you'll have to ask your spirit friends." 

"Friends?" 

"You've got yourself a following, you and your crowd. You've spoken already to two of them." 

"I've only spoken to one." 

"They're similar, but not the same. You spoke to two." 

"Ookay," Xander thought carefully, noting that his gum pack was diminishing. "What about Dawn?" 

"What about her?" 

"What is she the key to?" 

"Something bigger than you and all of your friends. Something which could mean the end, not just of your earth, but of everything. She must be protected at all costs." 

"But she's become mortal." 

"Yes." 

"When she dies...." 

"At the end of her life, the key will revert to energy. If it is cut off before that, no one will be safe." 

"How--" 

A scream from the real world cut him off mid-sentence, and he concentrated, trying to realize what was happening to his body. Buffy's voice sounded over the others, and he noticed forms resolving themselves out of the forest. 

"Get Xander out of here!" 

The Tender was watching him carefully as he felt his body being lifted. A strange vertigo washed over him, and the colors forced themselves into the foreground as a strange pulling sensation washed over him. They flashed angry reds and greens, then faded to a pale blue in the background as he heard Tara breathlessly shouting something. Saturnalia vanished from around him, but not before the Tender thrust the gum pack back into his hand along with a small piece of paper, wishing him luck. The world came back and he realized he had been slung over Riley's shoulder. He could see Giles running in front of them, and heard the lighter treads of the girls behind him. Tara was still chanting, and he noted with rising panic that he still couldn't move. Something had gone wrong. He searched within him, and calmed slightly when he noted that his soul was still there, though it was changing colors rapidly now, pulsing as though it still had a purpose that it hadn't been worked out yet. Xander stared alternately at the forest floor and Riley's back as he slammed repeatedly against it to the rhythm of the soldier's movements. He concentrated on keeping the magic under control. 

He was thrown unceremoniously into the back of a car and tried not to think of the screams and thuds echoing around him as his friends fought off the vampires. A door slammed near his head, and a pair of hands rested on his chest, holding him in place. Tara appeared in front of his vision as the car jerked into motion. He tried to ask her what was going on, but his mouth wasn't working. 

"It's okay," she was gasping for breath, and kept shooting worried glances to either side. He heard Willow saying something from a little ways away, and wondered how many people they'd crammed into the car. Tara dabbed something cold on his chest, touching up the smudged symbols. "The spell had to be interrupted, but we can complete it as soon as we're somewhere safe. We're almost done." 

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, but the car jerked to a stop before he could even begin to wonder how to get them out, and he was being lifted again, this time by his shoulders and ankles, and dragged into Buffy's living room. Tara arranged him in a seated position on the carpet, carefully balancing him so that he wouldn't fall over, and then she was chanting again, while Willow crouched in front of him with more paints. Anya was somewhere behind him, and she ran her hands through his hair once before renewing the chant. The world separated again, and this time Xander let his mind float into a welcome, dreamless unconsciousness until they were done. 

Xander awoke in perhaps the most comfortable place he'd ever been in his life. He was lying awkwardly across a bundled up blanket, his feet dangling in mid-air, his head cradled in someone's lap. Though his arms were contorted--one lay draped above his head, his hand grasped in a small, scarred one, the other fell across his body, clutched tight in a fist--his muscles were entirely relaxed, and the soft blanket and softer calves supported his spine expertly. He thought for a moment, and decided not to open his eyes. The scarred hand squeezed his, and fingers traced his hair line. 

"Come on, Xander, I know you're awake." Anya's voice was soft, belying the slightly harsh tone to it. It sounded as though she'd been speaking for too long, and every word scraped up her throat. His concern for her forced is eyes open, and he struggled to remember what had happened. He could picture red figures against black, moving swiftly towards him, and a pale blue, transparent room full of strange people and stranger objects. The spell, apparently, had worked. 

"Is anybody dead?" He asked, surprised to find that his own breath rasped against his vocal chords. It was Anya's lap he was laying in, though Tara gripped his hand. Willow was seated on the floor by the couch, a small bowl by her feet. He realized his chest was wet, and the symbols washed away. 

"Nope," Tara released his hand, smiling down at him. 

"We think it even worked!" Willow was grinning, looking between her best friend and her lover. "Though Drusilla wasn't too cheerful about he whole thing." 

Xander sat up, realizing in the action that his entire body was exhausted. His legs were aching, and he immediately wished he hadn't moved. 

"Great," his voice still hurt, but even after the incident with Faith he hadn't let that stop him long. "What do we do now?" 

It was Wesley who replied, calling Xander's attention to the fact that he wasn't alone with the girls. 

"We need to solve this." Wesley's face was bruised, and his arm rested in a sling. Xander winced as he realized his friends had been injured protecting him. Again. "As long as this power is floating loose, the threat isn't ever going to end. We need to bind you." 

Xander shook his head, sending shocks up through his neck. The room spun briefly, and Xander yawned. "To who?" 

Wesley seemed to deflate. His shoulders sagged as he let his breath out in a short hiss. "I don't know." 

Xander leaned back on the couch and crossed his hands over his chest. He realized his right hand was still curled into a ball, and he opened it, wincing as his muscles shouted complaints. A small packaged of gum lay crumpled there. He frowned at it, digging for the memory that sprung immediately and momentarily to mind before disappearing. The gum meant something, he just wasn't certain what. 

"Where's Dawn?" 

Wesley looked confused. "Upstairs, why?" 

"I dunno." Xander closed his eyes. "It seemed important for a moment. How's everybody?" 

"As good as can be expected." Wesley sat down, looking exhausted himself. "Most everyone is still asleep. That's what happens when you perform a spell for a day and a half." 

Xander sat up again, and regretted it. "Day and a half?" 

"Yes." Wesley gave him a strange look. "I suppose you may not have been aware of the passing time in the state you were in. We were in the clearing for a full day before Drusilla's forces attacked." 

Xander pictured the red forms again, and it seemed to him that he could hear Buffy scream. "I was standing there for a full day? Were you chanting the whole time?" 

"No," Anya whispered. "We had to take tuns. The hardest thing was to start up again after getting you to Buffy's house. We nearly couldn't put you back together. 

Xander felt the blood drain from his face. "I really didn't need to know that." 

"Hey, it's all good," Willow stood, looking and sounding a little too upbeat for someone who had just performed such a large spell. "You're just one big whole guy now. Are you hungry? 'Cause I'm really hungry. I wonder if Buffy's mom has any pancake mix?" She moved quickly to the door. "Tara, wanna help me make pancakes?" 

"Sure." Tara followed her. Wesley had fallen asleep in his chair, and Anya looked like she was about to go as well. Xander kissed her softly on the cheek and she murmured at him. 

"You want pancakes?" 

Anya mumbled again, sliding lower on the couch. Xander smiled and rubbed her shoulders. She turned her back towards him and lay back with a small smile against his chest. He smiled and put his arms around her. Before he fell asleep again himself, he opened his hand again. 

Pale blue eyes seemed to look at him from the gum wrapper, and he noticed a piece of napkin. He straightened it out, and saw a single word scrawled in black capitals: "Tara". 

His dreams were filled with tall, dark strangers and flashes of blonde and blue, which were lost to him the moment light hit his eyes. 

The doorbell rang through his head, jarring his consciousness and making him shudder. He opened his eyes and rolled his neck, as whomever was waiting outside began knocking with loud, vibrating thumps. He disentangled himself from Anya, handing her a throw pillow as a replacement, which she cuddled sleepily up to with almost as much enthusiasm as she had cuddled up to him. He spotted a pile of cold chocolate pancakes on the table, and Willow and Tara wrapped around each other on the floor. He grabbed two, pulling off pieces as he opened the door and let the afternoon sunlight stream in. 

The police officer on the other side lowered his fist and showed his badge. "I'm looking for Alexander Harris." 

Xander ripped a piece off the pancake with his teeth and swallowed without more than two convolutions of his jaw. He peered at him through sleepy lids. "'S me," 

The police officer placed a hand on his shoulder and held up a pair of hand cuffs. "I have a warrant for your arrest. If you would step outside the house, please," 

Xander dropped his pancakes and backed up, his mind doing synchronized flip-flops with his stomach. "What's the charge?" 

"Larceny, attempted murder, inciting a riot, trespassing on government property, the list goes on. I'd rather not use force, Mr. Harris." There were more officers on the front lawn, looking prepared for a fight. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Are you denying breaking onto the army base in '98 to steal a rocket launcher? Or leading your fellow students in attack upon the late Mayor in '99? We've been looking for you for a long time."

Xander put his hands up in front of him as the officer stepped forward. His jaw didn't want to work properly, it just opened and closed, shutting off any noises his throat wanted to make. The officer grimly pushed him up against the door jam, fastening the cuffs around his wrists. He read him his rights quickly, and Xander's mind tried to work out what was happening. 

"You have the right to a lawyer," 

Xander's mouth fastened on the word and finally coordinated with his lungs. "Lawyer?" 

"I'm Mr. Harris' lawyer," 

Xander and the officer both turned to face Wesley, who was standing now at the base of the stairs. He held out a hand, which the officer refused. 

"Wesley Wyndham Price. What did you say the charges on my client were?" 

Before the officer could respond, Buffy came barreling to the top of the stairs, looking panicked. "Dawn's gone! I checked her roo--" Her eyes locked on Xander's, and then swung down to the metal around his wrists. "What's going on?" 

Wesley answered calmly, his eyes never leaving the officer but to glance occasionally at the other police out on the lawn. "Mr. Harris is under arrest." 

"What?!" Buffy came running down the stairs, as Angel, Giles, and Riley appeared above her. "No, you can't--" 

"He has a warrant, Ms. Summers." Wesley took pains to keep his voice professional. "We'll post the bail necessary once it has been set." 

"I doubt it," The officer yanked Xander off the door jam and pushed him out the door. "This guy's crimes are too big for Bill Gates to pay for." He glanced back at Buffy. "You'd take care not to associate yourself too closely Miss. Mr. Price, I'll see you at the station." 

Buffy looked as though she were about to follow and fight, but was stopped by a hand on either shoulder. Xander caught a glimpse of her turning to shout something at her former watchers before he was manhandled to one of the three squad cars on the street and pushed roughly in. The door slammed in his face, striking his lately-healed knee a painful blow. The officer sneered, and grumbled out a curse. 

Xander leaned back and felt the hand cuffs bite into his back. He wondered, if he got out of this one, what would come up next to screw him over. 

Xander rubbed his blackened finger tips together as he waited for the man in front of him to finish recording all his information. He was still thoroughly sore from the spell, and the chair they'd put him in was no where near comfortable. The room was cold, and he was still dressed only in the loose, cotton trousers. 

A woman in uniform walked in, looking at him sideways, and whispered something to the officer in front of him. She left quickly, and the man look up at him, his disgust barely masked. "Your lawyer's here. We'll be questioning you soon." 

They led Xander into a room bare of anything but a table, two chairs, and a mirror. Lindsey sat on one side, Xander sat down on the other. The officer looked at Lindsey crossly. 

Lindsey smiled and stood. "Mr. McDonald. I'm Mr. Price's associate at Wolfram and Hart. Mr. Price was called away on important business and asked me to take on his clients for the duration." 

The officer nodded and left. Lindsey turned his smile on Xander. 

"How are you doing?" 

Xander shrugged, glancing at the mirror. 

"I asked them not to listen in. I can guarantee our privacy." Lindsey leaned forward across the table, his false hand landing with a hollow thunk. "I can guarantee your freedom as well. And that of your friends. Including the Slayer's charge." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Xander kept his face controlled, but couldn't help think of the look on Buffy's face when she said Dawn was missing. 

"Don't be an idiot, Harris, we've ben watching you and your friends since they broke you from Drusilla. We've got Dawn, and now we have you. Dawn is special to you, isn't she?" 

Xander simply shrugged again, wondering how long he'd be locked up for firing a rocket launcher in a mall. Jail would certainly keep Drusilla from him, and it was better to have him stuck there than Buffy. 

"Why is she special to you Xander? What does she have?" 

"Friends. And life." 

"How poetic." Lindsey settled himself back again. "Let me make something perfectly clear for you here, Xander. You're not in a warehouse, you're not the captive of some vampire or demon, you're in jail. If you're not careful, you'll soon be in prison. You're on our turf now, and I can certainly give you more of a chance of getting out of here without becoming someone's bitch than that fool Wesley can."

"Somehow, I'm not so worried about the 'bitch' part." 

"There are a lot of witches in jail, Xander. And a great many demons. I can arrange to have each and every one of them know all about you by the time you're locked safely away in a cell." 

Xander felt the blood drain from his face and mentally cursed himself. He was giving in to Lindsey again, and he knew it. He was just so damn tired. 

"And that's worse than what you're offering me?" 

"I'm offering you money. Power. And protection. For you, and for all of your friends. Don't doubt the strength of Wolfram and Hart. We've gotten mass murderers off easily, your misdemeanors won't be difficult. You come and work for us, and we'll clear your record and give you a life." 

"I have a life." 

"You have a dilemma, Xander. You spend all your time running from anyone who wants to take advantage of you, and that includes the Slayer, the witches, and all of your other friends." 

"They're not--" Xander leaned forward glaring, but Lindsey cut him off with a wave of his hand. 

"They've been fighting over your power and you know it. Each and every one of them wants to hold the key to your power, and they don't care what they have to do to get it." 

"They're trying to protect me." Xander leaned back in the chair, trying to will his muscles to relax. He felt a headache build. "You'll never convince me otherwise." 

"Fine." Lindsey reached down and pulled out a file. He lay it open on the table and pushed it towards Xander, who took it in his cuffed hands with a brief, incredulous look at the lawyer. Inside were photos. Most were of him, from junior and senior year, gathering explosive supplied, standing outside the military base with Cordelia. One shot showed his car outside the hardware store the night he'd fought Jack O'Toole. Then there was one of him, handing a rocket launcher up to a figure standing on the movie theater stands. The next showed Buffy, lining up the sights on the weapon. There were shots of her and Giles outside the burning factory after Angel had killed Ms. Calender, pictures of all of them sneaking through the hallways of the Initiative, and images of Buffy and Faith, at the top of a building. The last showed what he could only assume was Hemery High, on fire, with a younger Buffy standing outside it, a look of tired smugness on her face. Xander looked back up at the lawyer again, his breath coming quickly. 

"No." 

"Yes." Lindsey took the file and turned the page again. The sheet of typed words listed out all of Buffy's particulars, and the description the police had used when she was wanted for murder. "We have documentation of every illegal act you and your friends have ever committed. Enough to put all of you away for life. This file is normally locked up in the archives of Wolfram and Hart, but it can be brought out any time we like. All it would take is certain pictures, distributed to certain people, to ruin the Slayer and her beloved 'gang'. All it takes to keep that from happening is you working for us." 

Xander looked from the paper in front of him, to the lawyer, and back. He swallowed hard, and shifted, knowing he wasn't going to like what he had to do. He was being a noble idiot, but he couldn't let his friends go to jail. "And Dawn?" 

"She can stay with you, or go home. Which ever she prefers." 

"Guarantee me that she's safe." 

"She's in our local offices right now. I can get you on the phone to her as soon as the deal is closed." 

Xander shut his eyes and rubbed his nose, smearing ink between his eyes. "Fine. I'll do it." 

He could feel Lindsey's grin across the room, and heard another shuffling of paper. 

"Just sign on the dotted line." 

Xander took the sheet and the offered pen, and read the contract. It was fairly simple, the only thing in it that Lindsey hadn't mentioned was the wages he'd be earning. He whistled softly through his teeth, then clenched his jaw, and signed. The signature was rough and jagged, due to his cuffed hands, but it was his. He closed his eyes again as he shoved the document back across the table, not wanting to see the smug look he knew decorated Lindsey's face. 

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," Lindsey patted him on the shoulder. "And I mean that. Good guys are just so much easier to manipulate." 

Xander glared dangerous up at him, and Lindsey actually backed up a little. The lawyer's demeanor returned, and he squeezed Xander's shoulder. "I'll get that phone call set up for you." 

The lawyer left Xander sitting where he was, staring sullenly at the far wall. 

_"What's with today today?"_

"What are you watching?" 

"Empire Records. Only, like, the best movie ever."

Xander straightened his tie in the mirror, glancing at the television out of the corner of his eye. "Aren't you late for school or something?" 

"Lindsey hasn't enrolled me at Hemery yet." 

Xander rolled his eyes and adjusted his cuffs. "When are you going to call Buffy?" 

"Eventually." 

"She's worried, you know." 

"She's always worried." 

Xander turned from the mirror and faced Dawn. "How do I look?" 

Dawn looked him over critically, loosened his tie, and opened his jacket. After another look, she unbuttoned the top three buttons of hi shirt. "There. Now you look sexy." 

"I'm not trying to look sexy." 

"You don't have to try." 

"Dawn," Xander fixed his shirt. "Wolfram and Hart requires a level of professionalism." 

"Wolfram and Hart is the Man." 

"Yes. And at the moment, the Man is in control." 

"Well, damn the Man!" 

"You haven't talked to Buffy since the spell, have you?" 

"That's not the point." 

"Neither is Wolfram and Hart." 

Dawn muttered something like "yes it is," but then let the silence fall over them. Xander watched Lucas sneak off the couch holding a cushion for a moment, and then turned back to the mirror. He kept an eye on the girl who for the time being was his charge, and thought about the family that hadn't heard a word from either of them in the month and a half he'd been in jail. The prosecutor on his case, it turned out, was one of Wolfram and Hart's own, but due process still had to be followed. 

"If Buffy tells me to go home, will you make me go?" 

Xander closed his eyes briefly before answering. "Only if you want to." 

He fancied he could feel her smile, but all he was really aware of was the soft guitar coming from the tv. 

_Juliet,  
The dice was loaded from the start...._

"That's why I like you," Dawn's voice was as soft as the guitar. "You treat me like a person. Buffy won't even let me decide to cross the street and see my friends." 

"She's just trying to look out for you." 

"She doesn't care about me. She just thinks I'm a stupid piece of magic." 

"That's not true." 

"How can you say that?" Dawn spun on the couch. "She treats you the same way!" 

"Dawn, that's not--" Xander started to argue but stopped. That was the same thing he'd been thinking not so long ago. He adjusted his tie one more time and stared at his reflection. Dawn watched him seriously in his peripheral vision. "Call Buffy when you're done with your movie. If I get out of this, we're going back to Sunnydale." 

He grabbed his old backpack and headed out the door before Liv Tyler could throw herself at Rex Manning. 

"What do you see?" Lindsey walked behind Xander, who was slumped in a large armchair, staring straight ahead through the doorway between the office where they sat and the lobby. Xander let out a puff of air and looked at he crowd crossly. 

"A lot of people in expensively bad suits." 

Lindsey's preternatural calm slipped a notch, causing Xander to smile a bit. "You could at least try." 

"You didn't say that. All you said was that I had to agree to be bound." 

Lindsey looked down at him through half-lidded eyes. "You're learning. You'll be a lawyer before you know it." 

"No, if I was a lawyer, I'd figure out a way to get this whole double jeopardy thing to work out for me." 

"Focus, Xander. We can force this on you once you're bound, but I think you'll find it more pleasant now." 

Xander grumbled and crossed his eyes. A moment later, he let them relax, and soft colored glows appeared around the various people in the lobby. 

"Woo, great, auras. Whoopee." 

"Good. Do you know what they mean?" 

"Nope." Xander sank lower in the chair. It felt good to just relax somewhere, though the effect was ruined by the fact that tomorrow marked the day when he would be bound. He wondered if he could annoy Wolfram and Hart into letting him out of the deal. He doubted it. He let his eyes wander over the room in front of him, and ended up staring vaguely at the far wall. He heard something just on the edge of his perception as Lindsey began to get more and more fed up with him. It sounded a bit like laughter, but he ignored it. He wondered when he would get lunch, and if he got back to Sunnydale, how he was going to get his construction job back. Getting arrested hadn't exactly done wonders for his employment. 

Lindsey's face suddenly blocked his view. It was surrounded by a faint, yellow glow. Xander stared back at him, nonplused. 

"Xander, are you paying attention to me?" 

"Not in the least." 

The staring contest lasted a little while longer before Lindsey finally gave. "Fine. Come up to my office with me then. You need to be briefed on what will be expected of you." 

"Great," Xander let Lindsey drag him to his feet and followed listlessly behind him. They couldn't very well make him enthusiastic about the job they had blackmailed him into. Fancy apartment and benefits aside, he wasn't up for working for Evil. 

"We're not evil." Lindsey said, and Xander realized that he had just spoken aloud, albeit quietly. 

"Right. Sure. Whatever." 

Lindsey rolled his eyes and stepped off the elevator. He opened a door a little ways down the hall and gestured Xander inside. Xander shrugged, walked over the threshold, and yawned. A thin, pale blonde woman was waiting inside. He frowned, studying her. 

"Do I know you?"

"Darla!" Lindsey stepped forward, placing himself between Xander and the woman. "What are you doing here? They'll kill you if they find you." 

"Woah, Darla? As in, evil-bitch-catholic-school-girl-tried-to-kill-Joyce-and-sired-Angel Darla?" 

Lindsey gave him an odd look before turning his back on him completely. "Darla. You need to get out of here." 

"Angel won't help," the woman was saying, her head shaking rapidly. "You work for them. You can help me. Make them turn me." 

Lindsey shook his head. "No. Darla, I'm not going to help you die." 

"You don't--" Darla pushed past him, headed for the door. "I'll find them myself then." 

"Xander, stop her!" 

"Wha-?" Xander shot Lindsey a confused look, startled, and wasn't prepared for when Darla barreled into him on her way out. He fell to the floor and she scrambled over him, her hand coming down on his mouth. His eyes were still focused on auras, and the dark shades that circled her blocked his vision for a moment. The laughter he'd heard in the lobby grew louder, assailing his ears. It didn't end when she ran out the door and he rolled onto his side, pressing his arms to the sides of his head. "Shut up." 

The laughter rose in pitch and hysteria until it became a terrified wail, and more voices joined in the chorus, laughing and screaming in one breath and he curled himself up on the floor. His tie caught beneath his body as he tried desperately to find a way to block out the noise, and tightened with every movement, until he could barely breathe. Lindsey hovered by the door, saying something he couldn't hear. The laughing voices competed with the screamers, and he squeezed his eyes shut before feeling a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from it and his breath cut off completely. He felt the hand at his neck as he let himself fall from the world, and was relieved when the voices didn't follow. 

Half an hour later, he was lying half naked on the carpeted floor of Lindsey's office, staring up at the ceiling. The voices had faded into a background buzz when Lindsey had removed his tie and woken him up. An injection of he didn't know what had kept him from trying to leave the office, and the binding process had been rescheduled for as soon as the mage could arrive. His chest ached as he dragged in air, and he couldn't seem to get his eyes to focus. Someone was painting something on his forehead, and Dawn was lying next to him, her head on his stomach. 

"You're going to be okay, Xan," she was whispering. "They're going to fix this. Whatever happened, it'll be okay." 

Xander forced his lips into the shape of words and forced air out though his vocal chords. "I don't want this." 

Dawn's hand felt cool against his chest and he closed his eyes for a moment. "You have to. It'll be okay." 

Xander shook his head, and found quickly that he couldn't stop. He grew slightly dizzy from the movement. "No it won't. I don't.... Dawn, why are you here?" 

"They called me when you collapsed. They thought you'd need support for the binding." 

"Not what I meant," Xander wanted to say more, but hands stabilized his head and closed his mouth. The ache spread through the rest of his body, and the laughter faded into oblivion. A lean, dark face peered into his, and he had the distinct impression of two blue eyes. He relaxed slightly. 

"Alexander Harris, do you assent?" 

He thought about Dawn, who's hand was still pressed against his chest, and about his friends in Sunnydale, who looked forward to a lot of jail time if he didn't. He thought of Wolfram and Hart's power, keeping them all safe. His soul was nothing compared to all of that. He nodded. 

Dawn backed away as the mage began to chant. Xander felt himself melt into the floor, his breathing slowing with his heart rate and his vision blurring even further. After a moment, he felt himself divide again and wondered why he thought of a glassed-in bar. 

There seemed to be three of him laying there then, and somehow, though the ceiling was still a blur, the room came into focus. The mage bent low over his prone body, murmuring as Lindsey and several other lawyers looked on. Lindsey's face appeared pensive, his real hand bouncing against his thigh as though he wanted to run off at that moment, but the glances he shot to his superiors told him to stay. Dawn leaned against Lindsey's desk, staring at the closed blinds. She seemed smaller than usual, ready to break if someone touched her. The room was eerily silent, though the chant was clearly audible. He was fairly certain he was the only one who saw the determined blonde woman walk through the double doors, though there certainly wasn't anything he could do about it. 

The three lawyers were tossed aside easily, and the mage took one look at the woman and ran. She smiled after him, her expression dark, and scanned Xander's body before turning her gaze to Dawn, who jerked in fear. Somehow, Dawn knew what was coming, though she couldn't possibly recognize the woman. 

"Glory," Dawn whispered, and scrambled backwards to the curtain. Her voice was deep and accented until she reached the cloth that covered the window, when it reverted to its usual form. "Who are you?" 

Glory pouted. "You don't know? Well, not that it really matters in the long run, but I'm the one who's going to make use of you. So hold still, will you? I don't want to rip my dress trying to do this." 

Dawn screamed and Lindsey tried to shove himself to his feet. Blood dripped from just above his eye, and he shook his head before slumping back again. Xander's arm twitched slightly, but his body refused to answer his commands to move. One of his selves felt something shift, but he couldn't pin it down. 

Glory had Dawn in a choke hold faster than a thought and sniffed her hair quietly. "God, those monks were morons. This is going to be easy." 

The door swung open again, knocking Lindsey off his feet a second time. Drusilla stood, staring directly across at Glory. 

"Don't do that, Dear." Drusilla was swathed head to toe in a black mist that Xander recognized as her peculiar aura. "You do that, and they'll stop." 

Glory cocked her head, her hands still clamped around Dawn. "What will?" 

"The screams." Drusilla moved forward, almost slithering. "I like the screams." 

"Do you? I don't much care for them myself." Glory pushed Dawn aside with a shrug. "I'm sure they'll keep it up where you're going." A stake appeared in her hand one moment, and the next was buried in Dru's chest. Xander's mind flinched, and his body twitched again. Something in his soul shifted, and the voices grew louder again. As Dru crumpled all eyes turned towards his body, and he realized that they could hear them too. 

Lindsey's eyes widened as he stared at Xander's body. The boy's mouth was open just a crack, but that was obviously where the howling was coming from. He pulled himself across the floor to him as Glory grabbed Dawn and stalked forward. 

"Whatever it is that's in you," Lindsey hissed, and he titled Xander's head back so that the glazed eyes were pointed at him. "You've got to finish this." 

Glory kicked Lindsey aside, and he didn't move again. She stepped forward and pressed one spike heel against Xander's throat. "I don't think so." 

Xander's soul screamed, and his body jerked. His mind suddenly focused and he imagined his soul as he had first known it: a small, white pinprick. Then he untied the knot and let her go. 

His back arched as a bright light flared in the room and the screams turned back into the laughter, and the laughter stopped mocking. The sound was almost musical as his soul flared and swirled above his chest. His mind took over, watching as his body stiffened and his soul took shape. 

The first thing that formed were their wings. He didn't know why the entity that sprung from his chest was a they, but there was no question about it. Her voice echoed in the music as his power swirled green and red around her glowing form. Colors rippled over the air into huge soap-bubble wings which seemed to wrap the room. They stood as one, staring at Glory, who's mouth had solidified into a thin, hard line. Glory seemed to grow and darken in the face of them, and he felt fear turn his soul a darker red. She wrapped him in her presence, and the colors lightened again. Whoever she was, she knew him well. She knew his fears and his loves, and she soothed them from him before she let him turn them towards the dark, oil-slick wings that faced them. Malevolent eyes glared at benevolent, and the rainbow swirls which covered both spirits curled towards each other in a battle for glittering dominance. 

The instant the two wings touched, the battle ended. Both shes screamed in horror and bravery before dissolving into nothingness, leaving the room bare and cold. Xander's body slumped back to the floor as Glory's collapsed and shriveled. Xander shifted back into himself as Dawn reached his side, and he caught only a brief glimpse of tears coursing down her cheeks before he abandoned reality completely. 

The shark which lived in the aquarium bar snapped its jaws at his knees as he settled himself onto the dark blue velvet stool. The Tender was already in front of him, and he wondered how he could have forgotten the tall, dark man. Or his eyes. He searched his pockets, but was surprised when the Tender raised a hand in protest. 

"Don't worry, Kid, it's covered." 

Xander turned to see two men sitting on either side of him. Both were short and pale and dressed atrociously, but the similarities ended there. The one in the dark coat that matched his hair spoke, and his voice was tinged with the slightest of accents. It was familiar enough for Xander to place it, and he realized that these were the spirits he'd spoken to months ago. 

"You'll be wanting answers, then," 

"Actually," Xander shifted slightly, his mental form aching as much as his body did. "I was hoping for some chicken wings." 

"Don't bother," the man in the bowler said. "They're terrible." 

The Tender smiled. "The only really good thing on our menu are the buffalo wings. Hence the steep price." 

Xander nodded. "A soda then?" 

The Tender reached for a glass, and Xander wondered what question to ask first. 

"Who was she?" 

"Which one?" The Coat downed a shot of something. 

"Her. The one I...." Xander didn't know how to describe it. "My other half." 

"She wasn't you, that's for sure." The Coat seemed to frown for a moment. "Though she's been part of you for long enough that it'll hurt to have her gone. She was the first energy you absorbed on the hellmouth, when you performed a miracle." 

"Can we not speak in riddles please?" 

"There's no other way to explain it, Kid." The Bowler was somehow solider than anyone in the bar except the shark and the Tender. He waggled his eyebrows at him. "That's how the Powers that Be operate." 

"But who was she?" 

"She was Innocence personified. The innocence of a Slayer to be precise." The Tender leaned forward. "As precise as any of us can be, that is. Each Slayer is given two things: her power, and her innocence. The power is what makes them a Slayer, and the innocence is what makes them a human." 

"Than Buffy--" 

"She is more than she was because of what you did. Had anyone else revived her, she would have died. If not then, than a million times after that. By taking her innocence, you took her mortality. She can still be hurt, and eventually, killed. But she's stronger now than any Slayer before her. Because of you." 

Xander frowned, and the Coat lay a hand on his arm. "We're not saying your girl isn't innocent, Xander. Innocence isn't really the proper way to explain it. Buffy is certainly more innocent that Faith is, and Faith has still got her whatever-it-is. Her Vulnerability would be better, but still not precise. There really is no precise word in your language for it." 

"I've had a part of Buffy in me for four and a half years?" 

"Essentially, yes." The Bowler removed his hat. "You've kept it for her, kept her safe with it inside you. But every Slayer must sacrifice theirs at some point. You chose that moment for her." 

Xander's eyes widened. "What? Is Buffy--?" 

"Not for awhile now." The Coat sighed and signaled the Tender to give him a full bottle. "Look, there isn't a good way to explain all this. Simply put: you had this thing in you for years. She became a part of you, combined with your soul, and kept you afloat. Then the world was threatened and you released her to battle the darkness. She's gone, you're still around, but weakened." 

"Weakened?" Xander realized for the first time that while he was in Saturnalia, his body was extermely vulnerable. "What's happening now?" 

The Coat checked his watch. "At the precise moment, you're lying comatose on Angel's couch. Dawn is asleep in Buffy's lap, and everyone is gathered in the offices, waiting for you to wake up." 

"Then I should go." 

"Not yet." The Coat downed half the bottle. "You're good for now. 'Sides, your body isn't ready yet, and your soul is still healing. Let it soak up some more of the magic that's surrounding you first." He pointed out to the dance floor, where a translucent shade moved with a small, purple-haired woman to the pulsating music. "You're going to need it in the years to come." 

"Who was the dark woman?" 

"An evil." The Tender placed his soda in front of him. "That's all you need to know of her." 

Xander nodded and took a sip of the sweet liquid. It was brandless, which was so novel to him that it took him a moment to decide if he liked it or not. Raspberries and vanilla. He bit into a piece of ice. "How did I get to Angel's offices?" 

"Through the last bit of redemption you needed to assist in." The Bowler spun himself on the stool. "Drusilla helped stop the end of the world, for reasons all her own. Lindsey wasn't able to do that, so when he woke to find you unconscious and Glory dead, he called Angel and told his superiors you'd been killed in the process as well. He's still working for the company, for reasons all his own, but he wasn't lying when he said that they weren't evil." 

Xander chewed another piece of ice. "Than what are they?" 

"Human." 

"What was that laughter I kept hearing?" 

The Coat smiled. "Did you like that? I thought it was a nice touch, myself. Always wanted a portable laugh track. Though it would be nice to have it actually laughing with you. That was yourself, Xander. Keeping you in perspective." 

"I don't believe you." 

"Don't then." The Coat patted him on the shoulder. "Just remember, there ain't nothing wrong with being the comic relief, so long as you get a starring role now and then. You're what keeps us all from going bonkers." 

Xander regarded the two men on either side of him curiously, trying to remember the details of his earlier conversations with them. "Which one of you sacrificed yourself?" 

"That'd be me." The Coat answered. "Trouble with being a martyr, you see, is that you've got to die. Saw that in a movie once." 

"Right. You were martyred?" 

"No he wasn't. He was noble as all hell, but I wouldn't call it martyred." The Bowler put his hat back on and stood. "He just likes to quote Kevin Smith is all." 

"I was so martyred, Git." The Coat stood as well. "Mr. Balance here just doesn't like thinking of me as a force of good, seeing as we're always stuck together on assignments." 

"Whatever." The Bowler gestured to the crowd. "Let's go, Irish." 

The Coat placed a hand on Xander's shoulder. "Have a ball, Xander. But don't go for the wings, or I'll whack you a good one myself." 

"That'd be my last chance?" 

"Depends on who you ask. For the body its easy: the first choice is death, the second: reincarnation. The mind is insanity and death. With the soul, its harder to tell. Sometimes they'll let you slip one by. Angel gave up his first when he let Darla turn him, and next when he sexed up your Slayer. If they let him come back a third time, they'll let anyone off easy." 

Xander frowned. "I'll remember that." 

"No you won't. Not consciously." The Coat saluted as the Bowler tugged on his arm. "See you around, Kid." 

"Bye," Xander turned back to the Tender. "What comes next?" 

The Tender shrugged. "That's up to you. You can be bound, if you choose wisely. Or you can keep running." 

"Bind myself to Tara?" 

"What makes you say that?" 

"You handed her a note with her name on it." 

"What?" 

Xander dug around in his pocket for the piece of paper. He showed it to the Tender who frowned, and then laughed. "Christ, you ripped it. I wanted you to give her a note for me. Tell her I said 'hi'." 

"You know Tara?" 

"She's one of our best customers. Ask her sometime, she'll show you the real way in. Physical like." 

"So who do I bind myself to?" 

"Whomever you want. Whomever you trust. It's all up to you." 

Xander watched him for a long moment, then turned to watch his soul dance with a short African woman in beads and a girl with soap-bubble wings. He wondered what to tell the gang when he woke up. 

The end


End file.
